A Light in the Darkness Rising
by Lady Evenstar
Summary: Legolas and Arwen form a speacial bond as children that is now about to be tested. As Arwen and ten year old Estel enter Dol Guldur, the stronghold of Sauron, Galadriel's prophecy will come true. Do they have the strength to save Legolas? Ch. 7 posted!
1. The Communion

Disclaimer: Um, since my name's not really J.R.R. Tolkien, these characters don't belong to me...  
  
Hugs to my sister, who (gasp!) is probably an even bigger LOTR/ Legolas fan than I am! Thanks to you, O Mistress of the Rings, for always taking an interest in my writing!  
  
This takes place in the Third Age, year 247.  
  
The communion of the Elves was a grand event, and all of the elf kin were sure to attend, from the natives of the Woods of Lothlorien to the natives of Rivendell. Even some of those who were not elves came to see the festivities of the day, so widely was it known. Prominent among those gathered was the Hierarchy, including the great Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond, and Lord Thranduil.  
  
It was a celebration of the elves for the defeat of Morgoth and Sauron and the kindness of the gods. They held revelries, gave great banquets, and prayed for good weather and plentiful harvest. There were even reenactments of the defeat of the dark lord Morgoth that were presented, as well as the defeat of Sauron.  
  
It was during this communion that Arwen and Legolas first met.  
  
The banquet for the Hierarchy was just about to be given. It was held in a great hall in Rivendell, decorated for the occasion.  
  
Arwen, then only five years old, the tiniest of infants among the elves, was hiding her face in her mother's sleeve, not being used to so many people around.  
  
Celebrian bent and stroked her daughter's hair. "Arwen, my love. It is all right. Have a look around; none of these people will hurt you. I promise!"  
  
Arwen peeked coyly from behind her mother's sleeve. "But there's so *many,* mother!" she cried.  
  
Celebrian sighed and looked up. Her husband, Elrond was coming over, accompanied by Thranduil and a little elven-boy with blond hair.  
  
"Love, you remember Thranduil?" said Elrond warmly, grinning broadly.  
  
"Of course I do," she smiled, embracing Thranduil. "It has been a long time, brother."  
  
"Indeed it has," said Thranduil.  
  
"I'm so sorry to hear of your wife," she said solemnly.  
  
"It is alright. She is in a better place now."  
  
Just that year, Thranduil's wife had been deep in grief. No one knew the reason why. Even the love from her husband and son had been unable to save her, and she passed away.  
  
"Hey there, little one," said Celebrian gently, reaching out to caress the boy's face who was hiding behind Thranduil in much the same manner as Arwen was hiding behind her. The festival was always overwhelming for children at first.  
  
The boy blinked up at her with the most breath-taking green eyes that she had ever seen. He couldn't have been older than her Arwen was.  
  
"Hello, mi'lady," he said, so softly that she could barely hear him. He stepped away from Thranduil and bowed quickly and then pressed his face shyly against his father's leg again. "You are very pretty," he said, voice partially muffled from the fabric of Thranduil's trousers.  
  
She grinned. "Why, thank you," she said, flicking a strand of golden hair away from her face. "What is his name?" she asked Thranduil. This was Arwen and the boy's first time at the festival, so she did not know him yet.  
  
"Legolas."  
  
"Ah. A fitting name."  
  
"Yes, isn't it?" smiled Thranduil. "And who might this lovely one be?"  
  
"Introduce yourself," she told Arwen. But Arwen merely stuck her tongue out at her. She was at the age where all children thought it was funny to defy their parents.  
  
This sent Legolas into fits of laughter, and then Arwen started laughing, too.  
  
"Arwen!" scolded Elrond.  
  
"Ah, so Arwen is this little troublemaker's name," laughed Thranduil.  
  
"I'm sorry," apologized Celebrian, "she usually doesn't behave this way…."  
  
"That's quite alright. She's just a child. Shall we take a seat?"  
  
"Yes, it is time for the feast to begin," said Elrond, waving toward the huge table.  
  
As the adults went ahead, Legolas escaped to run over to Arwen.  
  
"You're bad!" he laughed.  
  
"Thank you," giggled Arwen. She stuck out her hand. "My name is Arwen," she said.  
  
"Mine's Legolas." He smiled sweetly at her and took her hand in his.  
  
Arwen smiled back at him. "Let's be friends. These adults are boring, anyway."  
  
And the two children found a seat next to each other, and did not let go of each other's hands the entire banquet.  
  
*****************  
  
Arwen leapt through the underbrush of the field and ran as fast as she could toward the river, giggling and waving ribbons behind her. Currently she was playing a game of "can't catch me" with her newfound friend, Legolas.  
  
She was glad to have met him. He made the festival, full of grown-ups and strangers, a lot more fun. Now she was no longer shy, but exactly the opposite. She and Legolas had spent the week tumbling over dignitaries (even the King of Arnor, Valandil, had become a victim of their play- but he merely smiled and helped them back to their feet) and weaving through obstacles such as tables and chairs- and legs.  
  
"Gotcha!" cried Legolas, jumping and grabbing her around her middle in much the manner of a cat. Arwen fell, and the two rolled down the hill together, giggling in the moonlight.  
  
Celebrian made her way up the hill to where the children were playing, her mother Galadriel beside her.  
  
As soon as she saw what a mess they were, she groaned. "I wish they would not roll in the grass like that," she sighed.  
  
"They are children- let them have their fun," said her mother serenely, glowing softly in the night.  
  
"Yes, yes, I know."  
  
Celebrian stood and watched the children play for a while longer, not having the heart to separate them. Tonight was the last night of the communion, and little Legolas was to depart soon with his father.  
  
"This is a legendary friendship that is being formed. I have seen it," said Galadriel.  
  
Celebrian turned toward her. "Is it really? In what way?"  
  
But her mother merely smiled and shook her head. "What will come into being will come into being, my child. You will see when it happens."  
  
Celebrian frowned and turned away. "Arwen! Legolas!" she called.  
  
"Coming, mother," giggled Arwen, standing up and brushing grass off of her gown. Legolas grabbed her hand and the two ran up to meet Celebrian.  
  
"It is time for the closing ceremonies," said Galadriel.  
  
The two children looked mournfully at each other.  
  
"Then I have to leave," moaned Legolas.  
  
"No! I don't want you to. Mother, can't we keep him?" begged Arwen.  
  
Celebrian smiled. "No, love, we cannot. But come. You'll be missing the fireworks!"  
  
At the mention of fireworks, both children brightened a bit and forgot their troubles for the time being. The four made their way back to the party and took a seat by Elrond, Thranduil, and Celeborn on a rooftop to watch the fireworks. They were the best part of the celebration- the part that everyone came to see, given by the great Mithrandir himself.  
  
Arwen led Legolas over to the very edge of the rooftop and the two sat down next to each other, legs dangling over the side. Arwen leaned over and whispered in Legolas's ear. "This is the very best place to see them," she said.  
  
"You've watched them before?" he asked, in awe.  
  
She nodded. "I sneaked out of bed once before, and mother let me stay."  
  
He frowned. "Lucky!"  
  
Their conversation was cut short as the first firework lit the air, a great burst of green luminescence, highlighting everything about them emerald. Then a blue one followed, then a red one, until the whole sky was a dazzlement of shapes and colors, awing the entire audience into silence.  
  
After about a half-hour of the entertainment, the entire sky went dark, very shortly and suddenly. All about them people began to stir, whistling and cheering, making their way down from their perches.  
  
And then, the last firework went off. It was a pure, blinding, brilliant white light, in the shape of a star- the very likeness of Elendil itself, multiplied to hundreds of times its size. A great gasp resounded from the audience, along with a couple "ooo's" and "ahh's."  
  
Arwen turned to Legolas, face illuminated by the light of the explosion, and pointed at the sky.  
  
"Look," said she, "a star shines upon our meeting, my friend!"  
  
He smiled, his hair an almost blinding white in the brightness. "It does," he said. Then he reached into his tunic and pulled out a single, lovely golden chain that hung about his neck. "Here," he said slipping the chain over her head "this was my mother's. She gave it to me, before she went away."  
  
Arwen gasped, fingering the thread of gold. "No, Legolas, I can't take this!" she cried.  
  
"But, I want you to have it!" he said. "So that you'll remember me, when I have to go. That's why my mother gave it to me. She said: 'Keep it and I will always be with you.' So, if you keep it, then I'll always be with you, even if we don't see each other for a long, long time."  
  
Arwen stared at him for a moment, and then threw her small arms about his neck.  
  
"Thank you. I won't forget you, I promise. You'll be my very best friend, forever, Legolas!"  
  
"Best friends forever," he said, voice muffled in her hair.  
  
And then he was gone, on the back of his father's horse, to a place very, very far away.  
  
But as Arwen held the chain close to her heart, he didn't seem that very far away at all.  
  
A/N: Rather a lot of fluffy-cuteness wasn't it? Hope I didn't give anyone out there sugar overdose! It'll probably get darker along the way, don't expect the rating to stay the same. It'll also get longer…  
  
Anyway, this is my very first LOTR fanfic, believe it or not, so reviews would be much appreciated. (Remember, the little purple box to the left corner of your screen is your friend!)  
  
Synopsis as of the moment: One thing I am sure of, this story will follow the lives of Arwen and Legolas throughout the beginning of the third age, when Sauron starts to come back into power. It will probably be a series of vignettes until we get to the time period that most of the plot takes place in. However, one thing I am not sure of is if this will turn into an Arwen/Legolas romance or not. (I love Aragorn, too, so I don't know.) It depends on what direction my muse takes me! Cheers! 


	2. Greenwood

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me, no matter how hard I wish.  
  
A/N: This takes place a little over a hundred years later than my last chapter. Here's where the story line starts to get vaguely AU for those of you who have memorized the Tolkien timeline; but for those of you who have not, enjoy.  
  
/thoughts/  
  
*****************  
  
Arwen leaned over the neck of her white horse. "Noro lim, Asfoloth (1)," she whispered in his ear, urging him faster. It seemed to her that every moment that slipped by was crucial, that if she did not move faster she would loose her mother forever. Why hadn't her Father let Arwen join her mother?  
  
*****************  
  
~flashback, three nights ago~  
  
*****************  
  
"I am leaving," said Celebrian calmly as she packed travel clothes and provisions into her bag.  
  
Elrond was standing beside her, as Arwen stood in the doorway of her parents' room, fingering the golden chain about her neck nervously.  
  
"I would prefer that you not," said Elrond insistently. "With the appearance of orcs and other fell things, it is no longer safe to visit your mother…"  
  
"That is the reason I need to see her! She would know what these appearances mean, and what to do about them. The witch-king has returned. I have to leave Rivendell, love, it is necessary."  
  
Elrond shook his head. "Then at least take an escort."  
  
"I cannot bring a whole escort to Lothlorien, and Elladan and Elrohir are away," Celebrian answered evenly, slinging the pack over her shoulder. She was already dressed in riding clothes.  
  
"I can go," volunteered Arwen. "I can ride, and wield…"  
  
"No," said Elrond firmly. "You are not yet qualified. Your place is here, Arwen."  
  
Arwen frowned. Why was she not qualified? Because she was young? Because she was a woman? That didn't mean she couldn't fight as well as her brothers.  
  
Celebrian turned and threw Arwen a sympathetic glance as she passed. "Do not worry," she called back to the two as she strode down the hallway. "I will be fine."  
  
*****************  
  
But somehow, Arwen knew that she would not be. So despite her father's orders, that night she snuck out to the stable with the intention of following her mother.  
  
"Lady," pleaded her handmaiden quietly, "I wish you would not do this. Stay here, where it is safe!"  
  
"And see my mother die!" cried Arwen. "I am sorry, but I cannot do that, Isilya (2)." She took her travel pack from Isilya's hand.  
  
"Please cover for me while I am gone," she continued.  
  
"But what shall I tell your Father?" Isilya asked, pulling her cloak tighter about herself to keep out the chill night air.  
  
"Tell him I am busy. Make up something," said Arwen, swinging onto Asfoloth's back. "Farewell, Isilya."  
  
"Farewell, mi'lady," said Isilya as Arwen galloped off into the moonlight. "Please be careful."  
  
*****************  
  
~end flasback~  
  
*****************  
  
Asfoloth was a good horse, and nimble, but after three days' hard riding, he began to falter beneath her. Arwen was worried. Surely she should have overtaken her mother by now-after all, they only left about eight hours apart from each other. /Do not worry/ she told herself. /Maybe she took a different way. Or maybe she is riding as hard as I am/.  
  
/In any case, / she concluded /I might as well stop and give Asfoloth a rest./  
  
She guided Asfoloth over to a lake and waterfall she had spotted in a break in the trees. She dismounted the white horse and took off his tack, before taking a meal of bread and dried fruit.  
  
"It is beautiful, isn't it?" she said to Asfoloth while looking at the lake. It was perfectly still, despite the waterfall emptying into it, and the moon and stars reflected to look almost real.  
  
Suddenly tempted, Arwen stood and took off her sword and clothing, and laid them in a neatly folded pile on the edge of the lake. She had become very dirty over the last few days, and now was the perfect time to bathe.  
  
She dipped her toe into the water and shivered from the cold. Holding her breath, she plunged bravely into the icy waters and swam lazily over to the waterfall, trying to get used to the temperature.  
  
"Come hither, Asfodel," she encouraged the horse, "and have a drink."  
  
He obeyed, and dipped his muzzle into the lake as she stood and washed herself beneath the waterfall.  
  
Just as she was finishing, her peace was interrupted.  
  
"Who are you?" called a clear, male elven voice, startling Arwen.  
  
With a gasp, she quickly submerged herself up to the neck in the water. A young elf, dressed all in greens and browns, stood on the riverbank, stroking Asfodel's forelock. She would not have been able to distinguish him from the trees if he had not revealed himself.  
  
"Who are *you*?" she snapped back at him, upset that he violated her modesty.  
  
He laughed, a sound like the ringing of bells. "Well, considering that you *are* on my father's territory, I think I should be the one asking the questions."  
  
His eyes suddenly narrowed on the necklace she wore, that was floating on top of the water. "Arwen?" he gasped.  
  
"How do you…" she trailed off, studying the elf. He was taller and more muscular, and his hair had deepened to a gold that matched her necklace, but he was most definitely… "Legolas!"  
  
"I haven't seen you in ages," he smiled.  
  
"Neither have I," she answered, raising herself partially from the water. "You have certainly grown!"  
  
"So have you," he said, a merry twinkle in his eyes.  
  
Arwen blushed. "How long were you watching?"  
  
"Long enough. What are you doing out here by yourself? Greenwood is not as it once was. There are fell beings about."  
  
"I was looking for my mother. Have you seen her?"  
  
Slowly, Legolas shook his head. "Nay. But come out and dress, and I'll take you back to our home. We can talk then."  
  
Arwen nodded and dressed quickly as Legolas turned his back. Enlisting the help of Thranduil would be better than attempting to search for her mother by herself.  
  
Besides, she would be able to catch up with her old friend this way.  
  
*****************  
  
After camping the night at the lake, the two set out for the home of the wood elves. Legolas led Arwen down long, winding forest paths, while Asfodel followed behind.  
  
As they talked, she marveled at how much he had changed.  
  
/But of course he changed,/ she thought, /the last time you saw him he was five. And it is not a bad change, either…/  
  
Arwen blushed at the last thought that ran through her mind.  
  
"Are you alright?" asked Legolas, peering intently at her.  
  
"Oh…yes, of course," she said.  
  
"As I was saying, our home is right across this bridge. Do you see the gates in the cave?"  
  
Arwen squinted. "Yes. You live in a cave?"  
  
Legolas laughed. "Not exactly Rivendell, is it? But it is home, and it is safe. Come."  
  
He took her hand and led her across the bridge, and laid his hand on the gates, whispering words in elvish that she could not quite make out.  
  
As they entered the cave, the gates swung shut behind them. An elf led Asfodel away to their stables as Legolas took her to the throne room.  
  
Great pillars carved out of the living stone stood there, and an empty wooden throne sat at the end.  
  
"He must be away on a hunting party," said Legolas.  
  
Arwen sighed, extremely disappointed. Would she never find her mother?  
  
Something of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Legolas said: "Do not loose heart. I will talk to him as soon as he returns."  
  
"That may not be soon enough," she said solemnly. "I have a feeling that my mother is in grave danger. If I do not find her soon…"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "Nevermind. We have some of the best scouts here. They will be able to find her."  
  
Arwen nodded. "Then do you have a room where I can take my leave?"  
  
Legolas called one of the royal attendants to lead her to a room. But before she followed, she turned and slid off the necklace.  
  
"Here," she said. "I do not need this to remember you by anymore. Now you are here."  
  
Legolas smiled as he took the chain. "Thank you, my friend. I shall come and visit your chambers after I speak to my father, to tell you what news there is."  
  
"Come and visit even if there is no news," she said coyly, and followed the servant elf down the corridor.  
  
*****************  
  
By the time Legolas came to visit Arwen's chambers, it was almost nightfall. Arwen was sitting on her bed, fresh from another bath. She was trying in vain to brush out the tangles in her hair.  
  
"Having trouble?" inquired Legolas with a smile.  
  
"Legolas!" Arwen exclaimed. "It is about time! Yes, I'm having trouble- I can't seem to get the knots from my hair."  
  
Legolas took the brush from her hands and sat nimbly down behind her, pulling gently at her hair with it.  
  
"What news is there?" asked Arwen anxiously.  
  
"My Father has not seen head nor tail of her," answered Legolas sympathetically. "But he has sent out a search party. We should have her tracked down within a day."  
  
Arwen twisted her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry, my friend, for being so much trouble. You don't have to do this…"  
  
"Thranduil is close friends with Celebrian. He is concerned for her safety as well- he would search for her even if you had not asked. But why did Lord Elrond let her go by herself?"  
  
"My mother insisted that she couldn't bring an escort with her. I offered to go- but my father said I was too young," said Arwen bitterly.  
  
"I get that a lot, too."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes. But I always manage somehow to get around my father's wishes. I only hope...I only hope that someday I will get his approval."  
  
"He does not approve of you?"  
  
Here, the brush halted its work. Legolas sat silent behind her. She was afraid that somehow she had offended him.  
  
"Legolas?" she asked, turning around to face him, and taking his hands into hers.  
  
Legolas blinked a few times, as if to hold back tears. "Maybe if mother were here, it would be different," he said quietly. "But she's not- and so Father is…very cold, and distant. He's always away. When he is here, he drinks a lot. Sometimes I don't think he means the stuff he says, but it still hurts."  
  
"What does he say?" asked Arwen concernedly.  
  
Legolas shook his head. "He's still a good ruler. He treats his people well," he continued as if she had not asked.  
  
"Legolas?" she asked again. Inwardly, she was horrified that Thranduil could be so cruel. When she was a child in Rivendell, she always pictured Legolas as being happy, running free in the trees. Obviously, that was not the case. But if he did not want to talk about it now, she would wait for him.  
  
"People always say that the wood elves are wild creatures, that spend their days whispering to trees and running along mountain paths. But it does not seem that way to me. You all appear very civilized," she said, switching subjects and turning back around so he could brush the last of the knots from her hair.  
  
Legolas relaxed behind her. "Ha! If you believe that then you should come to the feast tonight," he said.  
  
"Can I?" she asked excitedly.  
  
"Of course. You are my guest," answered Legolas. He finished brushing, and idly ran his hands through her hair. A chill ran down Arwen's spine at the contact.  
  
He rose and stood in front of her. "Come on," he said, grasping her hand.  
  
He tugged her into and old, ornamental bedroom down the hall, and swung open the closet.  
  
"This room was my mother's. You are about her size, so you can have one of her dresses to wear."  
  
Arwen smiled sadly. "No, I could not accept that."  
  
"She would want you to have it. Mother was a kind person." He handed her a long, relatively simple gown, but it was the golden color of turning leaves, with decorative embroidery.  
  
"You are a very generous elf, my friend. Thank you," said Arwen.  
  
"You're welcome. I will wait outside," said Legolas, and he bent and kissed her cheek, then left the room.  
  
Arwen gasped and reached up to trace a finger over the spot of contact, eyes wide. "Legolas!" she moaned.  
  
*****************  
  
The feast was out among the trees. Torches were all about, supplementing the people with light almost as bright as day. Tables were laden with food from the hunt and harvest.  
  
All of the elves agreed that night that Arwen was one of the most beautiful creatures to behold, in her new dress with her hair done up.  
  
"Thank you for having me, Lord Thranduil," she said, attempting to be cordial. To her surprise he was very kind, but she still held a certain dislike for him.  
  
"You are most certainly welcome, young Lady Undomiel. I can assure you that we will find your mother soon, but in the meantime we are pleased to enjoy your company."  
  
Thranduil was dressed in raiment of a deep purple, like that of ripe grapes. He wore on his head a crown of berries and red leaves for autumn.  
  
The fare was excellent- a bit rustic for Arwen's tastes, but still good. The wine was even better, and Arwen took a lot of it, despite some warnings. Legolas sat silent beside her for the duration.  
  
After the feast was done, the tables were taken away to make room for dancing. Musicians began to play.  
  
It was then that Arwen saw what Legolas was talking about earlier. The people burst into songs and games, dancing and laughing and raising a ruckus.  
  
Legolas came up behind her and placed a crown of leaves on her head. "Do you still think we're civilized?" he laughed.  
  
She smiled. "Not as much," she admitted.  
  
"Here, come dance," he said, leading her out where the others were dancing.  
  
It was some of the most fun that Arwen had ever had, spending the night twirling in Legolas's arms. But after a while she began to get drowsy from the wine, and begged him to stop and walk among the trees.  
  
She leaned heavily on him as they wandered away from the party. "The moon is beautiful again tonight," she observed tipsily.  
  
"Yes, it is," said Legolas, who was half supporting her, his arms around her waist as she pressed her face to his chest.  
  
"I think you had a little too much to drink," he continued merrily.  
  
"Yes," she sighed. "But it was so good. Tonight was wonderful, Legolas. Thank you."  
  
"Well, I'm glad you managed to wander into our lake!"  
  
She laughed. "Yes, so am I." For a moment she managed to forget why she was there in the first place, as she raised her head to look into his eyes.  
  
Her heart began to thud painfully in her chest. She was embarrassed by her emotions, until she saw the way he was looking at her.  
  
And just then, they came to notice that they both felt the same way.  
  
Ever so slowly, he brought his lips down upon hers. The kiss started off light, but grew deeper and more heated each moment that passed by. Arwen had lost herself to the passion, and she knew that he had too.  
  
With a gasp, the two broke apart. The mix of alcohol and love gave her a heady feeling, and she would have gladly fallen asleep there in his arms.  
  
The next thing she knew she was back in her bed and Legolas was bending over her.  
  
"Good night, Evenstar," he said warmly, stroking her hair away from her face.  
  
"Stay," she whispered, reaching out her arms to him.  
  
He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "I'm sorry. I will see you in the morning."  
  
He tucked the sheets about her, and that was all she remembered.  
  
*****************  
  
Arwen rose the next morning with a headache. She got out of bed slowly and got dressed, and then headed down to the throne room to find Legolas.  
  
He was there, standing by an empty throne.  
  
"Legolas!" she cried, and wound her arms around his neck.  
  
"Arwen," he said seriously, and pushed her gently away to look into her eyes.  
  
Suddenly, she noticed that his eyes were overbright.  
  
"What is it?" she asked.  
  
"We found your mother…"  
  
"No…" gasped Arwen, pressing her hand to her lips and squeezing her eyes shut, as if to block out what she was going to hear next.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Arwen. She is…very ill. Our healer is tending to her now, but…."  
  
"No! It cannot be so!" she cried. "Mother…"  
  
She broke down into tears. Her mother was dying!  
  
"I'm sorry. I know what it is like," said Legolas, pulling her close. She buried her face in his chest again and wept, clinging to him like a lifeline. Her worst fears had come true. Her mother…was dying.  
  
*****************  
  
1.'Noro Lim' in my rudimentary understanding of elvish means 'fly'  
  
2.'Isilya', Arwen's handmaiden's name, means 'moon' in Quenya (high elvish) and is used roughly for Wednesday in the days of the week.  
  
A/N: Umm, someone pointed out to me that Greenwood is not directly on the way to Lorien. My answer to that is: Arwen is only one hundred or so, so that she does no know her way around that well. That's why she couldn't find her mother.  
  
Wow, people really like my story!!! 16 reviews- and someone even wants to translate it into Chinese! I didn't think it was that good! Well, I really enjoyed writing this chapter a lot, an' I hope you liked it as much as the last. PLEASE REVIEW AGAIN! (I luv getting reviews)  
  
And also- expect to see Aragorn soon. ^-~ 


	3. Rescues and Confessions

Disclaimer: Um, since my name's not really J.R.R. Tolkien, these characters don't belong to me...

A/N: Yes, the Middle Earth geography and timeline have now changed to fit my needs. Sorry, don't yell! I didn't mean for it to work out this way, but it kinda did…for little Estel (Aragorn) picture him around the age of ten here. Yes, ten! Read into this a little bit and you'll probably be astonished…but what did you expect for the future king of men?

******A Few Days Prior******

The Orc den in the Misty Mountains was well protected; it was a cave, the only entrance being guarded by outcroppings and the Orcs themselves. One might have considered it impenetrable; that is, until they got a good look at the rescuers.

True, there were but three of them, crouched down beneath one of the boulders that led up the mountain, their horses forsaken below. But they were fearful to look upon; the two elves, that might have been considered handsome with dark hair and pale skin, had a terrible light that shone in their gray eyes. And their traveling companion was not a mere mortal, either; he had a regal bearing about him, and he was just as angry.

The anger that they bore, however, was not one that blinded; rather, at the very moment, they were planning the best way to carry out their rescue.

"Nay; I say that Elladan and I attack the Orcs directly, and create a distraction for Estel, who shall rush into the cave and bear out our mother," Elrohir was arguing.

Elladan hesitated beside Estel. "Can you do it, my brother of the heart?"

Estel nodded firmly. "Aye; leave it to me. I will not fail- you have my word." His young features were set into a grim countenance.

The twin elves exchanged a glance; Estel was very young.

"Have I let you down before?" cried Estel.

"Nay, you have not, little one. But this will be dangerous-" Elladan said dubiously.

"Let him try, brother. He has given his word, after all, and the word of Estel is not given lightly," Elrohir interrupted.

"Very well," sighed Elladan.

"We will charge the Orcs, and draw them from the cave. When you see an opening, slip into the cave and find mother. There may still be some Orcs left, however, so you must be prepared to fight."

"I understand," answered Estel, hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. He knew that Celebrian was not his birth mother, but he cared for her just the same.

With a display of elven agility, Elladan and Elrohir leapt over the boulder and vanished in a flash. Then the sounds of battle reached Estel's ears.

He crept up the side of the mountain, and hid behind one of the cave's outcroppings, watching as more and more Orcs poured from the opening. He glimpsed Elladan and Elrohir further down, fighting as if a demon were on their heels. Their swords flashed red in the morning sun as they took down their pursuers.

"Halt," cried one of the Orcs by the entrance, in his crude native tongue. He threw out an arm to stop his companions.

"What is the meaning of this?" cried one of the others.

Estel took advantage of the diversion to slip over the outcropping and drop behind the Orcs, standing in the mouth of the cave.

"Someone must watch over the she- elf. Stay in the cave!" The Orcs grumbled and turned around, then spotted the little human in the cave.

"Ah Elbereth!" muttered Estel, turning and fleeing, swift as the wind. He really had the worst luck.

"HEY YOU! STOP-Get the human!" cried one of the Orcs behind him. But a moment later, poisoned arrows were shooting past his head. Estel did not halt though; he continued on through the winding tunnels at breakneck speed, hacking down Orcs that blocked his path. His breath was catching in his throat, but he had given Elrond's sons his word; he would rescue Celebrian.

*THWPP!* With a sickening sound, one of the arrows impaled itself in his calf. Estel bit back a cry and reached down to yank it out; thankfully the tip came with it. Then perhaps a dozen Orcs fell upon him. He fought as furiously as the twins had, but he could not rest his weight fully on his injured right leg. 

The Orcs pressed their advantage, forcing him to spin and step on it. Not a moment gone by after he had defeated one that another attacked from the other side. Warm blood began to trickle from the wound into his boot; desperately he hoped it would wash away the poison with it, but did not believe so, for already he was beginning to weaken.

With a last, desperate lunge, he took off the head of the final Orc attacker. He gasped for breath and collapsed to his knees, head spinning. He pried loose a canister of alcohol from one of the bodies and poured it onto a strip of fabric, then began wiping at the wound in an attempt to clean it. He had learned the method from one of the healers in Rivendell; but their alcohol was good and clean, and the Orcs' was not. It was the best he could do, at the moment.

He fashioned a splint out of discarded sheathes, then struggled again to his feet. It was easier to walk now. He glanced around for more Orcs, but did not spot any; all of those on duty must be outside.

He followed the tunnels down further, until he came to a chamber with heavily barred doors. Chancing it, he pulled out a pin and picked the locks; he was *almost* certain that this was where Celebrian was being kept; if it was not, then he might be in for some trouble.

The final lock clicked open, and he shoved the heavy doors open quickly, sword held out in front of him. But he did not find a band of outlaw Southerns; instead, he found a single female elf, chained to the wall.

"Lady," he said gently, crossing the chamber and picking open the handcuffs, "I have come."

"Ah, young Estel," she sighed, words like the whisper of wind. "You truly deserve that name, for now you are my hope."

He caught her as she slumped into his arms, freed finally from the cuffs. He was horrified; he barely recognized her. Her riding skirts and shirt were ripped and torn, stained red. Deep wounds and cuts scarred her body; her hair was matted with blood. Her skin was sickeningly pale, eyes shadowed, and the glow which surrounded all the elder elves was gone.

"Hang on, my lady," he urged her, picking her up in a piggyback manner and staggering out of the cell, back to the entrance. She was lighter than elves should normally be, but for young Estel, with a wounded leg, it was still a struggle.

With great relief, Estel finally reached the mouth of the cave. How unfortunate for him, however, that the twins had not finished off all of the Orcs; when they saw him come out of their stronghold with their prey, they fell upon him with a vengeance.

He dropped Celebrian gently to the ground and stood straddled over her body, brandishing his sword. He fought valiantly, but the poison by then had taken a hold of him, and he began to falter beneath their blows.

He swung his sword clumsily and de-armed one of his attackers, but that was all that his body could handle, and despite the protests of his mind, he fell slumped to the ground atop the elf.

His last thought was /I'm sorry, Elladan, Elrohir…I failed you…/ and then he blacked out.

*****************

"What's the commotion by the cave entrance?" cried Elladan to his brother, who stood a few paces away from him as they hewed down the Orcs.

Elrohir stabbed through his current attacker and then leapt high into the air, glancing over to the entrance.

"It's little Estel- he's made it out, but I think he needs help," he called out an answer, landing lightly on the shoulders of an Orc and bringing down his sword, then jumping to the ground as the creature fell.

"Right," answered Elladan, and he joined his brother to rush the cave.

They carved a path at a run through the Orcs, and just as they reached the cave mouth the tiny human faltered and fell onto the body of their mother beneath him.

"NO!" cried Elrohir, darting to deflect from Estel a blow of the sword. He gritted his teeth as the Orc pressed down on his blade, edging it ever closer to Estel's head.

Then the Orc jerked and fell backwards; Elladan had run him through.

"Let's get out of here," grunted Elladan as he cut another of the Orcs in half, standing back to back with his brother over the two hapless forms.

"I'll take mother- you take Estel," said Elrohir.

"Aye," said Elladan, and quick as a flash the two grabbed their burdens and leapt over the Orcs' heads, running down the mountain to their steeds.

The Orcs yelled and gave pursuit, but the elves were too fast for them. By the time that the Orcs reached the bottom of the mountain, the twins were galloping off down the road.

******Present Day******

"Have you sent for my Father?" demanded Arwen, kneeling by her mother's bedside with her hand resting upon Celebrian's brow.

A few hours earlier, after she had cried out all of her fears upon Legolas's shoulder in the throne room, he brought her to the healing house of Greenwood, where her mother was being kept. The healers had done all that they could at that point for her mother; they had cleaned her wounds and revived her appearance; her hair had been no longer matted with blood, and she wore then a fresh linen shift. But Celebrian had been given a deep, poisoned wound upon her shoulder, which the healers could not make better. They were not as skilled as the healers in Rivendell; after all, things of dire consequence rarely, if ever, happened in Greenwood.

So Arwen, who had learned the skill from her Father, had set about trying her hand at it as her brothers watched on in earnest. It felt good to be doing something; it alleviated her fears. But even Arwen had not been able to fully heal the wound.

"Aye, we have," answered Thranduil, who was standing in the corner of the room, "however, he should not reach here for a couple of days yet."

Arwen nodded and chewed her lip. Would she be able to sustain her mother for that long? She had thought, when Legolas first broke the news to her, that her mother was dying…now, that may not be far from the truth.

"Why has not anyone attended to the boy?" demanded Legolas suddenly from the bedside across from Arwen's. 

A small human boy lay facedown upon it, his leg splinted between two sword-sheathes.

Thranduil looked annoyed. "I ordered our healers to attend only to Celebrian, for her wounds were more dire."

"And she is more important," stated Legolas bluntly.

"Certainly she is more important than a human boy…" hissed Thranduil.

"Did you not know that this boy saved her life? You heard the tale, just as I did…"

Thranduil took a few threatening steps forward. "You'd do well to learn you place…"

Arwen stood and moved between the father and son. "This boy saved her life?" she demanded, pointing down at his bed.

"Aye- he did," answered Elrohir.

"Then he deserves to get immediate attention," said Arwen. "In all due respect, my lord, the healers have done all they could for my mother."

Thranduil nodded stiffly. "Of course, princess…"

He brushed past Legolas and headed out the door. A few minutes later, healers appeared at the boy's bedside.

"If you'll excuse me," said Legolas quietly, hurrying out of the room.

Arwen gazed anxiously after him. 

"Go to him," said Elrohir, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. "We'll watch over mother."

"But you need to rest!" protested Arwen.

"We're fine. Besides, we must stay and see Estel gets properly taken care of," said Elladan.

"Alright…" said Arwen, sweeping out of the door after Legolas.

/So…Estel is his name. There is something different about that boy/ she thought, even as she worried over Legolas.

*****************

Arwen found Legolas sitting on the boughs of one of the trees, staring at the moon. He looked beautiful, sitting there bathed in the moonlight, Arwen thought.

She climbed the tree with agility, and settled herself silently beside him.

"There is something different about that boy," she voiced her thoughts after the silence had gone on too long.

"Yes- he is the heir of the royal line. He is the only remaining true king of men," said Legolas thoughtfully. 

Arwen gasped. "He is?"

"You did not know? He lives in Rivendell!"

"Many children live in Rivendell, and I am often gone," answered Arwen. "If my brothers knew that, then why did they not vouch for him?"

"They did. But my Father would not heed them- he does not take kindly to humans, especially those of the royal bloodline, after what happened with Isildur all those years ago. So it was left to me to vouch for the child- we figured since I was his son, he would have to listen to me. Obviously, I was wrong…"

Arwen reached out and took his hand. "Don't fret, love, all will be well. It just takes time…"

Legolas sighed. "Yes. Thank you for your help, in any case."

"You're welcome."

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a while longer, and then Legolas was the first to break it. "Estel is just ten years old, and he has seen more adventure than I."

Arwen laughed. "Be thankful for that."

"Haven't you ever wanted to adventure, Arwen?  To journey to lands not your own?" Legolas gazed at her intently, swinging his leg back and forth lazily from his perch.

Arwen sighed and turned her face to the sky. The moonlight glazed her fair eyes and highlighted her dark hair, catching it up in its rays and making it like to a pale fire. "I have naught wanted but to be at peace, love. My Father has seen many a battle. He lived and served during the great war of the ring, and he saw the devastation that Sauron caused. I daren't say that he has had his share of adventures. Which is all well and good," Arwen turned to face him, an her face was thrown into shadow and the light made a halo about her head, "but sometimes, when I look at him, he seems so sad. As if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Pray tell me, is this the cost of adventure? If it is, then I do not desire it."

Legolas looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe it is. Or maybe it's the cost of … experience. Immortality. Our people have been through much, and have a lot of time to ponder it. I think that whether you journey or not, you will still experience sorrows." Then he smiled. "Besides, what fun would life be without some excitement?"

Arwen laughed. "Maybe you are right, Legolas. Maybe you are right. But- I do know one thing…"

She leaned in closer to him with a coy smile.

"And what is that?" he asked, reaching out to push a strand of hair away from her face.

"I wouldn't mind remembering this…"

With that, she kissed him full upon the lips, even more passionately than the previous night. Now, she was fully in possession of herself…and now, she had things to remember…and forget. As things would turn out, that night would be one that was to be emblazoned in her mind for years to come…and especially in the coming weeks.

His lips moved against hers, and with a moan he pulled her closer. The euphoria between them seemed to intensify until she felt she would burst from her skin. This feeling was wonderful…*he* was wonderful, and she wanted never to part from him.

"Legolas," she sighed, wrapping him in her embrace. She burned to speak the words that had been forming on her tongue the moment she had seen him by the lake. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he answered, taking her into his arms and bearing her to the ground. The fallen leaves cradled them in a spicy embrace as his fingers and lips traced her body, pleasing and fulfilling her in ways she never thought possible.

That night, she gave herself to him, and he to her, beneath the moon.

*****************

"Ah, my love, how did you come to be in such a position?" sighed Elrond, taking Celebrian's hand into his own. It felt cold beneath his touch.

Elrond had just arrived that morning, and took no rest or meal but instead came straight to his wife. Elladan and Elrohir had greeted him, along with Thranduil and his son. He found Arwen sitting by her mother's side, and chased her out with a few consoling words. Now, the party was waiting outside the door. 

"Elrond?" she whispered through numb lips.

"Yes- it is I," he answered, kneeling at her side. "You are safe now."

"Elrond- I am sorry- you were…"

"Shh- it does not matter now who is wrong or right. All that matters is you."

He laid his hands upon her wound and murmured spells as the healers concocted the medicine he had told them to make.

When they finished, they found him deep in meditation, and were afraid to disturb him. But he beckoned them closer, with a grateful nod took it from them, and spread it upon the wound.

The sickness that had shaken Celebrian's body then vanished, and with a sigh she sank back upon the bed.

"Rest now, my lady," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

With a great smile, he strode out of the healing house and informed the anxious knot that had gathered there, "She is fine."

*****************

A/N: Sorry, I know this chapter took a while. But please review anyway!

Next Chapter…Departures…


	4. Departures

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing the LOTR characters for a while…

A/N: The chapter is dedicated to the restaurant 'The Hobbit' and all my reviewers, with special regards to Lady Akiko and Hermione (for being so enthusiastic about my work! Thanks! It helps to know someone cares.)

*****************

'In fact, Elves appear to have deteriorated generally since the coming of humans. If you meet Elves, expect to have to listen for hours while they tell you about this- many Elves are great bores on the subject- and about what glories there were in ancient days. They will intersperse their accounts with nostalgic ditties and conclude by telling you how great numbers of elves have become so wearied with the thinning of the old golden wonders that they have all departed, departed into the West. This is correct, provided you take it with the understanding that Elves do not say anything quite straight. Many Elves have indeed gone West, to Minnesota and thence to California, where they have great fun wearing punk clothes and riding motorbikes.'- The Tough Guide to Fantasyland, Diana Wynne Jones

*****************

"The nightmares- they grow worse. They possess me, mind, body, and soul, at night- and haunt me like specters that one sees flitting at the edge of their vision during the day. I cannot escape them. I grow thin and wearied because of them. I can no longer eat, can no longer sleep. I spend my days wrapped in thick coils of fear and pain, reliving the days of hell that were inflicted upon me."

Elrond held his thin wife close to him, afraid to squeeze her tighter lest she might shatter within his embrace. Her tears soaked the front of his tunic, and as she spoke her voice quavered with pain.

At least she was speaking- for the first few weeks after he had revived her she had said not a word.

And honestly, she scared him while she was like this. She had always been strong, blazing with spirit. It was for this reason he had fallen in love with her- but now she was a mere wraith of the woman she had been before. He had despaired himself for the past months, devoting all of his free time to waiting upon her, but to little avail. He could only heal physical wounds- he could not heal mental. Again and again he thought of the elves that had been so tortured by the original dark lord that they had become themselves Orcs. And again and again he wondered if she was not dying from a broken heart.

"What would you have me do, love?" asked Elrond, desperately trying to keep his own voice calm. He did not need to add the burden of his own pain to hers.

"Let me go," she answered.

"What?"

"Let me go, love. Let me leave this place."

"Do you mean you wish to live in Lothlorien?"

Celebrian gave a laugh devoid of emotion. "No, I do not. I mean that I wish to depart over the sea, to live out my days in the old paradise with our ancestors. I believe that is the only way I can achieve my true healing and happiness."

Elrond was staggered. If she departed over the sea- he would never be able to see her again. To hold her in his arms, to admire her sleeping form as the morning sunlight traced patterns upon her face. Although he had feared for her death, it had not fully occurred to him that he might have to live without her one day. He didn't know…if he could manage. How does one willingly let go of a woman they have spent thousands of years with?

"Please, Elrond, my life, my sky, my star. If you truly love me, then let me leave." Celebrian slipped from his embrace and took his hand within her own emaciated grip, staring desperately into his eyes.

This was no way for her to live, he told himself. If he truly did love her, then he could not be selfish in such a matter.

"I will miss you dearly," he answered, voice finally breaking.

Celebrian gave the first true smile that he had seen since the day she had departed for her mother. "And I you."

*****************

A few days later, a white boat was settled upon the shore of Middle Earth, awaiting its departure. Upon it were Celebrian, her handmaidens, and one stout sailor to guide the ship along its journey.

"Good bye, my mother," cried Arwen, waving her hand feverishly in the air. Beside her were her brothers, her grandfather, and her grandmother.

Her mother lifted one hand in a solemn farewell. Already she seemed to have recovered a little with the promise of a new land that calls all of her people.

Arwen would miss her dearly. Despite the fact that her family stood beside her, she felt truly alone in the world. She had not seen her Legolas for nearly a year, and that departure had been a bitter one. The only thing that had comforted her while in Rivendell was the ability to care for her mother, but now she, too, was departing from her.

__

"Grant me one last favor, my daughter. Be strong, and take care of your father for me. This parting will not be easy for him." Celebrian said, as she sat upon her bed with her Arwen.

"Yes- of course, mother," answered Arwen.

"I want you to have this, Arwen," Celebrian said, handing her daughter a beautifully wrought silver pendant. "It has been in our family since the dawn of time. Take care of it, and someday you will be able to hand it to your own beloved one."

"Will I ever see you again?" cried Arwen, taking the pendant into her grasp.

"Maybe. But maybe not. No matter what happens, though, I will always be with you."

She shuddered and clasped the pendant that her mother had given to her in her hand, but it offered her no comfort. Not like the golden chain had- but then she had been younger. Her mind wandered back to the parting conversation between she and her lover.

__

"Come back with me, to Rivendell," Arwen had pleaded.

But Legolas merely smiled that benign smile of his and shook his head. "I cannot- I have duties here to attend to, and you have yours. It seems we shall just have to be separated for a time, Arwen."

Again he had slipped the chain from his neck to give to her, but she stayed his hand. "Let it be a comfort to you, this time, love. The days and times grow darker, and one needs such a reminder as this. To be a light in the darkness rising"

Legolas looked at her longingly. "They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. But I cannot think it while you are here in front of me- my heart is fond enough. I hope that yours is as well."

"It is," nodded Arwen, beginning to weep.

"Please, don't cry- we'll see each other again. I promise. We shall be each other's light"

When finally she came back to herself, the boat was just a mere speck on the horizon. Her brothers and her grandparents were seated in the chariot that had brought them to the shore, waiting patiently for the rest to join them. But her father was standing by himself, a little farther off on an outcropping that looked over the sea.

Arwen's heart went out to him, and remembering her promise she wandered up the shore and stood silently by his side.

"I cannot believe that she is gone," he said after a few moments, his voice sounding distant to her. His hair was whipping out behind him, tossed by the ocean wind.

Arwen buried her face in his back, wrapping her arms about his chest. "Oh, Father," she sighed.

He turned and took her in his arms. "Arwen. You are all I have left of her now. You always reminded me so much of her…"

"Let's go," she said gently, taking his hand and leading him back to the chariot.

Her grandmother smiled sorrowfully at them as they took their seats.

"We are all grieved," she spoke. "Let us heal our pain with a few days of rest and remembrance- in Lothlorien."

The carriage lurched into motion, and then they were off to the birthplace of Celebrian, the paradise of the golden wood.

*****************

"Anon, good traveler, why dost though come to my wood?" spoke the boy, wariness betrayed in his figure. He laid a careful hand upon the hilt of his sword.

The traveler was taller than he was, swathed in a long, dark robe with his face hidden by a hood. "I have business here," the voice answered from between dark folds.

"What kind of business, may I ask?"

"You may," said the man, a sort of grim amusement coloring his speech. He threw off the cloak and drew his own sword. "I have come, young one, to teach thee a lesson! Draw!"

The man came at him quick as a flash, so that the boy barely had time to parry. But parry he did, and then charged the man himself.

"I think it is I who will teach you a lesson!" cried the boy, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes and smiling in excitement.

The man smiled back at him, and threw back his own golden locks as he pushed against the boy's blade. As he did so he revealed himself not to be a man, but an elf. A handsome elf with green eyes.

"You have gotten better, Estel!" he praised.

Estel answered him by breaking his sword free from their lock and charging him again. In the months he had spent here, it had become sort of a tradition between them to role- play and test their agility as duelists. Estel had come to look forward to their play, when he could pretend to be an invincible hero and save the woods from 'evil' Legolas.

"Thank you, but should you be complementing me?" he asked after a moment.

"I suppose not," laughed Legolas, and gave a quick upstroke, catching Estel in mid-swing underneath his sword. Estel groaned and pushed back against him, but then Legolas's support was gone and he stumbled forward onto the ground. It didn't hurt, of course, because of the padding of the fallen leaves.

Legolas brought the tip of his sword underneath Estel's chin. "It seems that I have won."

Estel gritted his teeth as the sword was withdrawn and then leapt forward and tackled the elf about the waist. 

Legolas fell to the ground under his weight, and the two rolled down the forest slope, laughing hysterically. They landed in a heap, with Estel on top of the other, unable to move due to their mirth.

"You certainly are a sore loser," gasped the elf after he had caught his breath. "Remind me never to engage you in true combat."_ Fitting, though, for the future king of men,_ Legolas thought.

"I am because I never lose!" said Estel with a grin, standing up and raising his arms to the sky. "You should know that by now, Legolas!"

"Oh, indeed," answered the elf, desperately trying not to laugh at the picture the boy made.

"Prince!" interrupted one of the maidens of their village, calling down the slope. "The king calls for you, and the boy."

Both were reluctant to oblige, but in naught but a few moments they stood in front of the king's throne, along with a few of the nobility. Legolas had never liked the nobility, even when he was little. They always used to look at him disdainfully- maybe it was because since he was the blood-heir, they could not take the throne before him.

Thranduil ran a critical eye over his son's appearance. For the first time Legolas noticed that his clothes were dirty and rumpled from the roll down the hill. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair, brushing out the few dry leaves that clung there.

"We have decided that the boy is well recuperated and able to travel home now," began Thranduil. "We are sending him back to Rivendell."

He then turned to Estel. "We shall give you a horse, and some men to accompany you."

Estel nodded solemnly. It was hard to believe that this was the same boy who only moments earlier had been laughing and playing with Legolas. His face was hard, betraying no emotion, though he must be disappointed. "Thank you, king." 

Thranduil inclined his head, and then waved the boy away. Estel exited without a word.

"We have an important package that must be delivered to Lothlorien immediately," the king addressed his son. "If you wish, you may bear it."

"Of course!" cried Legolas, and then berated himself for appearing too eager. But this might be the chance to prove himself to his father! And adventure, while he was at it…

One of the nobles brought forth a long object wrapped in cloth, bearing rather the shape of a large sword. As the noble handed it to him, Legolas nearly dropped it because of the weight. It was the heaviest sword that he had ever handled, if indeed that was what it was, seemingly wrought not of metal but some more indestructible material.

"This is the sword of Gorthaur," his father answered his unspoken question, "the most cursed of objects besides the heirloom of Isildur, which is lost to us now forever. It holds great power, power enough to strike down one of his servants. Elrond was bearing it to Lothlorien to be watched over by Galadriel when he heard of his wife's condition, and was sidetracked here. He left it to my keeping until it was safe again to bring it out into the open and make the rest of the journey.

"The Orcs have been quiet now for nearly two months, so we have decided to attempt the transfer. The Witch-King is very eager to have it so that his power would be no longer challenged, so the utmost care must be taken on this journey. Do you understand?"

Legolas nodded. "Aye, father. You need not worry; I will take care of it."

Thranduil studied his son for a few moments, a strange expression upon his face.

"Very well. Prepare for your journey, and depart at once. Good luck."

Legolas bowed quickly, then hurried to his room to gather together supplies. He traveled lightly; he brought only his quiver and bow, a light elvish sword, and then strapped a sheath the size of Sauron's sword to his back. It went from his shoulder to his hip, it was so large.

Carefully, he un-wrapped the blade from its cloth. It was double-edged, sharper than steel, and dark as obsidian. The light seemed to vanish upon its surface, so black it was. His slid it gracefully into its sheath, and the material sang like a bell in the air as it moved. Cursed though it was, it was a magnificent weapon. He knew exactly the responsibility he had taken on for this journey.

After grabbing some travel food provisions from the kitchen, he was ready to depart. He said no goodbyes to his subjects and friends, but instead slunk out of a side passage, thinking it better to depart in silence instead of pomp and circumstance. He shouldn't attract any attention when he was not even begun on the quest.

The passage led out to a seldom-used path, which only his people could pick out if they tried. So he was surprised to find someone already there.

"I knew you would go without saying goodbye. Your father assigned you something important, didn't he?"

Estel looked seriously up at him, stroking the muzzle of his mount. His escort was a way off, waiting on the real forest trail.

He was a perceptive child indeed. "How did you know that?"

"When I was leaving an elf walked by with an object wrapped in cloth. He looked as though he was disgusted to touch it, so it must have been important. The only reason they would bring it to the throne room was if someone were to get rid of it," Estel studied the sheath on Legolas's back curiously. "Let me accompany you. I do not wish to go home yet."

"I cannot allow that. I will go on my own, young one. It is too dangerous."

Estel made a face. "It is not. No one ever beats me, remember?"

"You were laid up in bed for a week for precisely that reason, if you recall. Nay, return to Rivendell. I'm sure you will have enough foes on that journey. Goodbye, Estel."

"Goodbye, Legolas," said Estel solemnly, and then the child in him got the better of him and he ran and hugged his friend. "Take care. Don't get hurt, alright?"

"I'll be fine," Legolas assured him with a smile, gripping his shoulders. "May you have peace," he finished, and then freed himself from the boy's grip and took off down the path, dodging nimbly the rocks and tree roots. When he looked back, Estel was gone.

*****************

She was calling. Her footsteps whispered over the ground beneath Arwen's loft. She was calling.

Unconsciously, Arwen obliged to her call and rose from the bed she had been sleeping in, walking half in a dream as she always did through the glowing wood of Lothlorien. Her feet led her down the path that led to her grandmother's mirror, the mirror of Galadriel. Yes, it was Galadriel who was calling her.

When Arwen arrived, her grandmother was standing in front of her mirror- water, and her father was standing a little father away, face hidden by shadows.

Galadriel smiled sadly at her. "Your heart still grieves for her," she said, not as a question but rather as a statement. Her grandmother always knew her mind.

"I was dreaming of her again," Arwen answered.

"Yes," said Galadriel laconically. "And you, son of my heart. Your grief still consumes you, even more than your daughter. That is understandably so. But one so wise and in such a position of power cannot remain disabled for too long."

Elrond did not answer her. Arwen turned her face away, grieved. It upset her terribly that her father hurt so much. "Is there not something we can do?"

Galadriel nodded and motioned to the basin of enchanted water. "I will show her to you once more. I am sure once you see how happy she is, you will no longer worry over her."

Pictures began to transmit through the mind-link that all three shared. Of a white ship on a cerulean sea, of women laughing and sharing secrets between each other, looking forward to the land of the Valar. Prominent among them was Celebrian, and she was glowing, just as she had before the Orc attack. Indeed, she was happy.

Gradually, the picture faded from before Arwen's eyes. She reached up and brushed away the tears that had formed during those few moments.

"I am glad she is healing," Elrond spoke, moving from the shadows. He still did not look fully recovered, but just those few images of his wife had managed to free him from the grip of his depression.

Arwen moved gracefully toward him, arms outstretched as she had when she was a child. Soon, she was safe in her father's embrace, and for the first time she fancied that everything would turn out okay. Her family would surpass this tragedy together.

"I have all of the love I need right here with me, besides," said Elrond, smoothing Arwen's hair from her eyes with a look of parental pride. 

"Ah; but some of Arwen's love has been already taken without you knowing, Elrond," said Galadriel, looking at them through the corner of her eye.

Arwen froze, horrified. Of course Galadriel would know of her affair. She had not realized that until this moment.

Her father's face took on a guarded look. "Yes?"

"The Sindarian Elf Prince, of Greenwood, is it not?"

Images of Legolas and their love making rose suddenly to Arwen's mind, but she beat them back down with a vengeance. However, not quickly enough; her grandmother's eyes flashed briefly at her.

__

I had seen that their friendship would become important, Galadriel thought, _but I had not known it went so far between them._

"Is it true, daughter?" Elrond asked softly.

"I am sorry father; I should have told you before I became so loose with him. Forgive me," insisted Arwen desperately. 

"This will not do, Arwen. Our bloodline is the only that remains of the high kings and elves; an elf of your stature cannot behave with such irresponsibility. Now what shall I do with you?"

"What shall you do with me?! It is not as if I was changed irrevocably!"

"No; but how can I trust you after this? How will I know if you will not behave badly again?"

"You are overreacting!"

"Let her stay with me; I will watch over her and guide her as her mother would have," Galadriel cut in smoothly. 

"Yes; I think that will be for the best. Do not let her leave this place," said Elrond coldly, turning away from his daughter.

"Father!" cried Arwen, tears filling her eyes. He was overreacting! She wanted to stay with him, not here, with people she hardly knew. Was what she had done truly that bad? Was it a crime to love another? Or was it simply a crime to grow up?

"Father, answer me," she growled desperately through gritted teeth, and received no answer. How could he be so cold?

With a cry, she turned and fled from the clearing, running away, anywhere. Desperation turned to anger, and then anger to sorrow and self-loathing. The energy was sapped from her, and she sank down beneath the boughs of a tree, wrapping her arms about her legs and burying her face in her knees. She had promised her mother that she would watch over her father, but now she had destroyed that, with her own hands.

*****************

It was unnaturally dark for Greenwood on the path Legolas was walking, near the heart of the forest. It seemed not the same entity it had been before; as if it had changed somehow from the carefree place it once was. It was strange; it was as if the forest had literally been possessed. The gloom penetrated his heart as he fought his way through the mirk. He grieved for the forest and what it had become; he could not stand it.

But that was not all. From the moment he had entered the blackness he perceived eyes watching him, unfriendly eyes. He began to doubt ever taking this mission.

"Even in dark places there is light," he whispered to himself, clutching at his necklace.

Cackling came from around him, as if laughing at the notion.

"Who is there?" he cried, unsheathing the elvish sword at his side. His hands trembled as he held it before him.

The laughing came closer, and a pair of large, golden eyes confronted him. He cried out and dropped his weapon, and then the creature lunged.

"Yrch!" he yelled. Unable to retrieve his own sword, he unsheathed the morgol blade. It sang right through the attacking creature; such awesome power he had never wielded before.

The Orcs fell upon him mercilessly, but with Sauron's own blade he fought them off. The darkness around them became blacker and blacker, until Legolas could not see his own hand in front of his face; and then, just like that, the Orcs were gone.

The laughing, however, was still maintained. A voice, like the whisper of wind, murmured "Thief."

"Who is there?" he asked again.

"Do you not know? It was I who had once wielded that blade," it answered, again light, like wind. The tone had become even more sinister, and Legolas shrank from it.

"Gorthaur ," Legolas whispered.

The laughing, the horrible laughing, so increased in pitch that Legolas could not stand it. He brought his hands up to his ears and tried to block it away, but it would not go. A pair of fiery eyes formed themselves in front of him, all that he could see in the unnatural night. Was it merely a nightmare? Could he not awaken now? It had gone on long enough.

"No, elf, this is no dream," said Gorthaur, and then Legolas was being strangled by an invisible grip, lifting him high into the air. Tentacles of darkness wrapped themselves around his body.

__

The sword, he thought._ It will save me._ With a swift movement he slashed at the eyes of fire, and Gorthaur howled, dropping him to the ground.

Trusting his instincts, Legolas rose and ran, hopefully in the direction of the exit.

A stag, glowing white, appeared before him and offered him its back. It was one of the forest creatures he had known since birth, one of his loyal subjects. He thanked it and leapt upon it, knowing that it could take him away from this warped Greenwood of Gorthaur, this Mirkwood.

The darkness began to dissipate about him as the stag ran, and his heart sang with joy. He was going to make it!

He was just in sight of the exiting path, when an Orc leapt onto the stag behind him. Before he could react, he felt a heavy object connect with his skull, and he knew no more.

*****************

"Yrch" is Orcs, in elvish

"Gorthaur" is elvish for Sauron

A/N: Yep, took a while again, didn't it? However, I promise, I'm back for the year. 

I was inspired suddenly by some fanfictions I read, and this is the result. So what did you think? You think the quest is corny? Well, then, review and tell me. I rather like it, though. (BTW, I know in the movie Sauron had a mace but…I don't like them. So, in my story, he has a sword.)


	5. Dol Guldur

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me…

A/N: Another long wait again, and this time I won't make any excuses…let's just get on to the good stuff…

*****************

"NO!" cried Estel, lurching from his hiding place in an attempt to reach his fallen friend. "Lego-"Before the boy could finish his sentence, a slender hand slipped over his mouth and jerked him backward into the foliage again. He struggled furiously against the grip, but as thin as the arm was, it was as hard as steel.

"Hush, child," a soft, lilting voice whispered in his ear. "That was Gorthaur who called those Orcs. Draw attention to us, and we may well die long before the prince."

Estel attempted to say 'Leave me go,' but muffled against the flesh it came out more like "Lffe mef gon." The message was received well enough, though, and the arm receded.

Estel turned around and stared furiously at his captor. A deep green hood disguised the slender face, but judging by the silver strands of hair that peeked from under it, the being was one of the elves from his entourage.

"Stare death at me as long as you like, boy, I will not give in. I have dealt with royal children long enough to know when to stand my ground. May I remind you that we were not even supposed to be following Prince Legolas."

Estel ran a hand through his dark matted hair and blew out a frustrated breath. "Then what would you have us do...uh..."

"Isilya," supplied the elf.

The name triggered Estel's memory, and in his minds eye came the picture of a small woman elf with long silver hair left loose. She was supposed to have been the head of his company, so obviously she was a person of importance.

"Isilya," repeated Estel.

"I would have you do nothing at this point. Your safety is my number one priority, if you will recall."

"Do you not even care that Legolas was taken by Orcs? They'll torture him just like Celebrian!" The image of the elf woman brought tears to his eyes. He could not picture one of his best friends undergoing any such thing.

Isilya brought a dark gloved finger to her shadowed lips. "Lower your voice," she said sternly. "Of course I care, for he is my lady's beloved, and I do not wish to see her hurt. If you would be so kind as to listen to me for a moment, I will tell you my plan."

Estel bit his lip stubbornly, but obediently fell silent.

"I will follow the Prince to where he is being taken, simultaneously leaving a trail for you to follow. Understood?"

Estel nodded.

"Meanwhile, you shall go and fetch the Lady Evenstar."

"I do not know whom you are speaking of," the boy said uncertainly.

"She is Lord Elrond's daughter, and bears his likeness. You will know her when you see her- I believe she is currently in Lothlorien. You do know where that is?"

"Yes," answered Estel firmly.

"Very well- let us part," said Isilya, and quick as a flash she was gone. Estel marveled only for a few moments at the speed with which the Elves moved, before he, too, was on his way.

*****************

Images formed themselves in the elf's mind, visions of the future visiting her as they always did in her dreams. Normally, she welcomed these visions as way to better serve her husband and protect her son, but lately they had become so horrific in nature that she dreaded sleep at night.

With much of her will, she pushed back at the misty barrier between dream and prophecy, clinging desperately to her rest. It made no difference, however; the prophecy came at will and with such force that she could not resist it. Clearer and clearer became the dream-vision, until she was almost certain that she was living the reality...

Her beloved forest was immersed in darkness, that hung as if a fog over the treetops. Wolves snarled at her heels, and those mythical Orcs leered at her from the sides of the trails she was walking, thrusting spears at her and gashing open her flesh. She cried out in pain and longing, and her voice was unnatural to her ears in such misery. Was this truly the future?

The images quickened, and predominant among those flashed was a black mound, wreathed in fire but still dark as night-The forest warped around her, and then she was faced with horrible eyes of fire, moving so close to her that she was almost engulfed by them. She began to scream until her throat was raw, but her cry was only answered with dark laughter. Unseen tendrils wrapped around her throat like snakes, strangling her, choking the life out of her, until she was almost dead-

*****************"Hot," mumbled Legolas dreamily, as he struggled to awaken from unconsciousness. "Hot!" he cried again, jerking up and away from the floor he had been lying on. He weaved uncertainly on his feet, tracing a finger down the side of his face that had been pressed to the ground. It was blistered and sore, as if someone had put a brand to his cheek while he slept.

"Where am I?" he whispered, struggling in vain to remember what this place was and how he had gotten there. The chamber around him was of dark stone that seemed to suck away the light, but it was unnaturally warm, even sweltering. Kneeling down again, he pressed a hand to the floor, and then pulled it away with a jerk. The dirt of the floor was as hot as ash! What was this place? What was he doing here? How-

Then suddenly, a thought struck him, as terrifying as the chamber he was locked into: who was he? With panic growing deep in his belly, he desperately searched his memory for some clue, but could find nothing, not even his own name.

"It's awake," said a deep, rasping voice from outside his closet- sized chamber, as a pair of wide yellow eyes peered in through a grate in the heavy wooden door. Although his memory could not provide him with his own name, he could easily identify that these were definitely not his friends. He came to a decision at once: he could not let them know of his deficiency.

"Let me see," hissed another voice, shoving the former speaker out of the way. Legolas backed against the wall and glared defiantly at the second pair of eyes. "Still got spirit, have you? We'll take care of that!" it laughed, then turned and yelled at its friend: "Go get the boss!"

"Aye, sir," grumbled the first thing, whatever it was, and the sound of footsteps could be heard ringing down the hall. Drenched in sweat, Legolas sank to the floor and frowned in concentration, determined to at least remember something of his past before the 'boss' came for a visit.

*****************

After traveling but a while, Estel came to the threshold of the Golden Wood. It took him a little, however, to work up the courage to enter; he had heard the stories of the elf- witch who lived there when he was small, and of her powers. It was only the thought of his friend perhaps in mortal danger that gave him the will to carry on.

He stumbled on through the path, glancing left and right, hand tight on the hilt of his sword. At that moment, he thought his senses were at the height of their power; but obviously, they were not high enough, for he felt the tip of an arrow touch lightly against the back of his neck.

"We do not allow trespassers here, little boy, so I suggest you turn around slowly and leave," said a stern male elven voice behind him.

"Please, I must speak with the Lady Evenstar," answered Estel, surprising even himself at the strength of command in his voice, when he felt so small.

"She does not take kindly to schoolboy crushes..."

"No, you don't understand! It's urgent that I speak with her! Please, they have taken Legolas!"

The pressure of the arrow faltered abruptly and he was faced with an elf, almost exactly identical to those he had been staying with over the past few months, with dark eyes and golden hair. He was eyeing Estel anxiously now.

"Who has?"

"The Necromancer…" and here, Estel lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper "Gorthaur…."  
That was it. That was all he had to say, he could tell, for although the elf kept his face carefully bland, his eyes betrayed a deep unrest. "We have known a shadow was growing in Greenwood," he murmured in Elvish "but none suspected it was him…"

Estel answered then in elvish "The shadow is indeed far more perilous than any of you must have believed, which is why I must speak to the Evenstar at once."

The elf's mouth twitched upward in amusement, and he said: "Ah, so you are no ordinary human, if you speak elvish. Very well then, follow me, although I know not why you call upon the lady."

He led Estel through winding golden paths and over clear brooks, dotted along the way by Lothlorien guards. Estel could just make out some dwellings high above and away in the Mallorns when his elf-guide turned to him.

"Before you may enter, you must swear never to disclose the location of our city. Do you swear?"

"I do," nodded Estel, clutching nervously at his tunic collar. By this time he was on pins and needles, and nearing the edge of even his extraordinary control. The distressing events of the day, combined with the anxious tales surrounding the wood he was in and the exhaustion that he was suffering, were almost too much to handle.

The elf saw this and took pity on the boy. "I am called Haldir. If you must pass by here again, come to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes; and my name is Estel, so you know."

Haldir gave a quick smile and a bow, then fled away into the wood, calling behind him "I will bring the Lady to you…"

The boy sank gratefully to the ground, thanking the gods for even this little bit of rest before Lady Evenstar arrived. The golden leaves and flowers of the Mallorns flickered around him in an almost ethereal beauty, but instead of offering him comfort they made him almost all too aware of his current physical state. He was tired and sweaty, and his clothes were tattered and stained, hardly presentable for any Lady at all, let alone an elven one of the Golden Wood. And what if she would not help him, a dirty human? Then what would he do?

But determined not to give in to his doubts and fears, Estel began to sing in order to distract himself. It was a song he had learned in the halls of Elrond, during peaceful nights when the entire elven community had gathered around a fire in the great hall, and shared ballads and stories. This one had particularly enchanted him, the song of Tinuviel and Beren and their meeting.

Just then, a maiden came running toward him. She was but a speck on the horizon, yet even from this great distance he could tell she was beautiful. Her dark hair was flying like the wind behind her, and her mantle of silver and blue was drawn up above knees in order to allow her to move more freely, revealing slender pale legs.

As she came upon him, breathing heavily with sweat like gems upon her brow, he could not help but whisper "Tinuviel," reminded strongly of the beautiful elf maid from legend that had wrested the Silmaril from the evil sorcerer.

She smiled despite her flustered state and said "Why do you call me by that name?"

Estel blushed and turned his face away, murmuring "I thought you were Tinuviel, because I was just singing about her. You walk in her likeness…"

"Many have said so, little prince Estel. But pray, tell me of this news you bring. What of Prince Legolas? Has he fallen to harm?" Her face betrayed an anxiety that did not seem right upon such beautiful features. 

How did she know who he was? Why did she address him as 'prince'? There were many things mysterious about this Lady Evenstar, but now was not the time to inquire into them. Instead, he answered her quickly: "Yes, great harm Lady, great harm!" he cried, hugging his knees tightly to him. "His father gave him some sort of enchanted sword that he was to take here, to Lothlorien. I tried to go with him, but he would not let me, so I followed him, deep into the forest of Greenwood. There, he was attacked by Orcs, and then Sauron…Gorthaur…appeared, and he almost killed Legolas, but the prince got away by using the sword. But the Orcs took him, knocked him unconscious, and…" Here Estel stopped, finding that he was unable to continue due to the tears that threatened. It was too much, it was all too much. He was only a child, after all, he was not smart or strong like Elrond or Legolas. 

"Hush," said Lady Evenstar kindly, kneeling and hugging the boy close to her. "You did the right thing by coming to me, Estel. Do not worry, we will rescue him!"

As Estel wept upon her shoulder, he marveled at the wisdom and strength of the girl who seemed only a few years older than he.

"Do not wonder!" she said then, surprising Estel, "For the children of Elrond have the life of the Eldar."

Arwen took pity on the boy in her arms, whose grubby hands were clutching at her as if he would die if he ever let go. There was something about this human that pulled gently at her heart. It was almost the way that she felt about her Legolas…her Legolas, who was lost, captured…who might meet the same fate of her beloved mother…

After letting Estel release his sorrow, she stood and took command, not allowing her worry to overcome her. "Do we know where they have taken him?"

"Nay; but your maid, Isilya, is tracking them and is leaving a trail for us to follow, Lady," answered Estel, wiping at his face, pushing away the last of his tears.

"Call me Arwen," said the elf sternly. Her eyes hardened for a moment, staring away over Estel's head. "I am forbidden to leave this place…" she whispered, her tone distracted.

A wave of horror washed over Estel. Had he come all this way for nothing?

She dashed off again, back into the forest, and Estel was left alone as well as stunned. 

"Wait!" he called after her fleeing form. "Wait, I need you!"

But Arwen took no heed, and disappeared from Estel's sight.  
*****************

__

Run. The elf remembered a time when that was all her people did, wild, free, happy, at one. The forest floor slipped beneath her feet. She was flying. _Speed._

The meadows had been wide then. The grass and wildflowers were long and fragrant; but they had not impeded the speed of the elves, and the elves in return did not bend a single stem, brushing lightly over the vegetation. Flying.

The grass had whispered to them, told them stories to entertain them as the elves passed along their way. They spoke of the harvest, when all things were fruitful; of the great frost that settled and killed; of the springtime when their children would live again. All things, for long before the elves had come to the land, had followed this cycle. Death and rebirth. Love and loss. It was natural.

The trees whispered to her even now, but their voices had been altered. Not natural. They wept, even as they led her along. _This way,_ they said. The mourning trees led her better than any trail could, for she knew how to listen. She knew the secrets of the earth, she remembered, for she was even older than the lady of the golden wood. Indeed, she had been nurse-maid to Galadriel, and when she had grown Isilya had been placed in charge of Celebrian. Elves followed the natural cycle as well; for even as Celebrian parted, her child grew stronger. Arwen… in all her long life, Isilya had not met an elf with as pure a soul as she, and therefore she loved her, and followed the trees for her happiness.

__

Careful, they warned her now. _Soon._

Isilya slowed and danced among the dark trees, her deep green cloak molding into the foliage. She broke off a few more twigs, in case her lady could not hear the trees' whisper, in order to leave a trail.

Then suddenly the elf came upon it; the unnaturalness, the dark. Those for whom the trees mourned were pulled from the ground and piled in a towering heap to the side of a gigantic clearing. Even larger was the edifice that occupied the clearing; it was one huge, dark mound, surrounded by a moat of fire. It seethed darkness, this hill, so much so that one could almost see its tentacles writhing in the air.

"I have heard rumor of this place," she whispered to herself, "Dol Guldur, the strong hold of Sauron. So it is true then…he has returned, for good."

Fear washed over Isilya suddenly, building deep in her belly. She remembered the time of carnage when Gorthaur had ruled, and those memories held sway over her now. She was sorely tempted to listen to her instinct, turn, and flee.

Then the voice of the trees, calm even in misery, washed over her like a cleansing wave. _Peace,_ they assured her.

"Yes," she answered them, pressing a trembling hand to her stomach. "I must find a way in."

*****************

Footsteps could be heard out in the hall. Legolas bounded lightly to his feet, set upon defying his captors to the best of his abilities. He needed to leave this place, he knew, and would figure out the rest from there.

The first step to achieving such a goal was to face down 'the boss.'

There was a clanking as one of the creatures set a key into the lock, struggling as quickly as he could to turn the heavy metal gears. Apparently, this was not quick enough for his master, for a clear, not quite right voice commanded "Move."

There was a crash and a squeal of pain, and then the door flung open as if of its own accord. 

However, instead of the huge, intimidating creature that Legolas was picturing, an elf of about his size stalked into the room. His hair was blonde, but faded and dirty as it floated behind him. His dark eyes burned into Legolas from out of a gaunt and shadowed face. He was the picture of decayed beauty.

The tension blackened the room as the two faced each other, neither saying anything, just staring. One darkly beautiful, one the picture of light, they contrasted sharply. The ingrate of before crept up behind his faded master, clutching the hem of the elf's floating dark robe and pressing his face to it in nauseating servility. "Master…" it half-whimpered, half-hissed. 

The elf tore his gaze from Legolas from the first time and ordered in that musical, yet tainted voice "Leave us." The servant flew backwards and crumpled against the back wall, and the master had not even made a gesture.

Legolas's gaze lingered for only a moment on the pitiful creature before snapping back to the master's face, now only inches from his own.

"Show some respect for those more powerful than thee," he snapped. "Never meet my gaze, young elf."

Legolas stared still at him, undaunted.

The other moved so fast that Legolas could barely track his movements. A resounding crack filled the room as his hand flew across Legolas's cheek.

Legolas staggered backwards, clutching at his cheek. Blood warmed his hand, and he spat some of the salty liquid onto the dirt.

The creature laughed, high and chilling.

__

The laugh, he thought desperately, _the horrible laugh._ Memories of eyes of fire and suffocation flooded back to his awareness, triggered by the sound.

"There is more of where that came from. Do not defy me again. Now, speak your name."

Fear paralyzed Legolas. He could not move, could not speak, could not think as the fire consumed him. He trembled, squeezing his eyes shut against the visions and reaching beyond himself for a strand of hope. He was trapped in this nightmare, with nary a memory to comfort him, truly alone…

A warm glow heated the skin next to his heart. He reached into his shirt, and brushed his fingertips against a necklace. As he did so, it seemed as if a voice spoke to him, telling him to hold on. Its reassurance was like a light to him in this dismal abyss. Fireworks and laughing children instead filled his thoughts, and gave him hope, hope enough to challenge this monster.

"Nay," he whispered defiantly, gathering courage. "Nay," he said again, louder "You have no right to know my name." Even if he had remembered it, still he would not have given it.

The creature laughed, seizing him about the throat and slamming him against the cell wall. "Still you defy me," it proclaimed, somewhat madly. "You know who I am, else you would never have been carrying what you were. Have you no fear?"

__

What I was carrying…I was carrying something? He wondered. 

"I know what you are. You nothing but a deranged coward, who happened upon magick," Legolas spat back, aiming a sharp kick at his captor's abdomen. A smile of triumph crept upon his features as the faded one staggered backwards, the wind knocked from him.

Legolas regained his footing and darted around the other, lobbying for the door. Just as he reached the threshold, however, and invisible force caught him about the throat and sent him sprawling back onto the floor. Gasping for breath, he rolled just in time to dodge a blow from the elf.

__

Did you really think you could escape me that easily? Foolish one, an insinuating voice filled his mind.

Legolas gasped and stared up at his captor, who was looking down at him with a sneer, eyes alight with fire.

__

You shall pay dearly for that. No one ever strikes Gorthaur, for he who does always loses.

The door swung shut with finality behind them as Legolas's screams began to echo down the hall.

*****************

*Random Announcement*: IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED IN SHOWING OFF THEIR TOLKIEN KNOWLEDGE, PLEASE EMAIL ME (by the middle of December 2002)! I'm conducting a survey for my Senior Research Project about Tolkien, and I'm looking for a few more fans. Fill it out, and I'll love you forever, really I will!

*Notes for the Chapter*: I'll leave off there for now. You might have noticed I stole and warped a bit from the cannon the meeting of Arwen and Aragorn (but it's kinda cute, isn't it?). I also added in a bit where Estel meets Haldir, because they did seem as if they knew each other from before in the movie, don't they?

Hmmm….quite a bit of Legolas torture, but this is the fire he must walk through before becoming the adept warrior he is as one of the companions. No, it's not just random sadism (well, maybe a little…).

A word about Isilya: no, she is not and will not ever become a Mary Sue, if any suspected. She's just a kick-ass warrior elf (a female one) because there is more needed in the Tolkien cannon. She's very old and skilled at magic, (and is cool!) and she plays a very important role in the plot.

Not very much romance in this chapter though….sigh, sorry about that. Did any see the new movie trailer? I was on the mark with Elrond, wasn't I? He's afraid of losing the only woman left to him…

Thank you all again for your reviews!!! They really encourage me and keep me going (really they do!). Write in again and tell me what you think!!! 


	6. Prophecy

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me…for now…. *evil laughter*

AN: Yes! I did it! Two chapters in one month! (Sure, I realize that's a pathetic achievement, but it's really great for me!) This one's a little shorter, but still just as good as the last chapters. Enjoy!

Oh, and I should mention, there's a little (unwilling on one side, albeit) slash in this chapter. It's not much at all, but if you get really really disturbed by that type of stuff, you shouldn't read my stories! (LOL- right Aki?). Seriously, I don't want any reviews complaining, so I give you fair warning. And don't worry, its not going anywhere, its just another of Gorthaur's twisted ways. There'll still be A/L.

*****************

Estel could hardly believe it. He had come all this way, had wasted all this time, to beg for Arwen's help, and now she had abandoned him with nary an explanation. By now, Legolas could be dying….

He cursed, one of the foulest curse words that he had picked up from the Orcs of the Misty Mountains, and began to run after her, fully entering the golden wood for the first time. Its elven inhabitants stared at him as he passed by, but he paid them no heed and continued to run in the direction that the lady had fled, kicking the fallen golden leaves in a trail behind him.

"Where are you going?" a teasing voice called from behind him, and low and behold, there stood Arwen, dressed for travel in a divided riding skirt.

"I thought you had left me!" accused Estel.

"Of course I had not left you, but I couldn't very well make the journey in a dress, now could I?" she said, a smile playing at her lips as she strapped a sword to her side.

Estel grinned back, relieved. "But you said that you could not leave…"

Arwen leapt at him, covering his mouth with her hand.

"Shush!" she ordered him quietly, staring around them to see if any of the elves had overheard. "Indeed I am forbidden, but they do not know that!"

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Now, we must slip out quietly before my Grandmother…"

Before Arwen could finish her sentence, a strong and powerful voice rocked the forest. "Arwen!" it cried.

"Oh, no," sighed Arwen, rolling her eyes. "So much for that."

Estel gasped in admiration, amazed that so powerful a sound had originated from such a small woman that was approaching them. She was slender and graceful, with hair that fell like molten gold to her waist. Estel had never seen a woman so ancient, nor so beautiful. She exuded such a calm and power that Estel was suddenly cowed. Arwen, however, did not look discouraged in the least.

"Grandmother," she said sweetly.

"You are planning to leave, granddaughter," she said with an edge to her voice, "and as I recall it, you are forbidden." Galadriel had stopped only a few feet in front of the two.

"Father still sees me as a little girl," Arwen spat. "I am fully capable of making my own decisions."

"Are you?" Galadriel questioned, raising an eyebrow. Arwen fell quiet, staring at her. "I must warn you, Arwen, that if you leave now you will not only put your own life, but Estel, Isilya, and Legolas's life in peril as well. I have foreseen that one of you will die on this journey."

Estel's eyes widened, frightened by the elf woman's prophecies.

"I have prevented you from leaving this place only to protect you, little one. The path you choose to take now will be one full of danger. Are you aware of this?"

Arwen looked rather scared for a moment, but she drew herself up and answered "I must save Legolas. He needs me, grandmother."

Galadriel nodded solemnly. "Very well, then. I wish you luck."

"You are not mad?" 

"It is your decision, Arwen. I will not prevent you." 

Arwen nodded, turned, and took Estel's hand in her own, walking away without looking back. She hadn't even said goodbye.

Estel turned to see the elf woman's reaction, afraid that she might be angry with them. But, to his surprise, she met his gaze and smiled beautifully. Then, he heard her voice in his mind: _Good luck, my Prince Estel. Do not be afraid; we shall meet again._

"Come along, Estel," said Arwen gently, tugging him along the path out of Lothlorien. "It will not be long now. We will rescue Legolas!"

*****************

"Adar! Adar! Le ueth im? Adar!"(1) The elf's anguished voice pierced the still, heavy air of Dol Guldur.

"He cries in his sleep again," grumbled one of the Orc guards, banging on the cell door behind him in annoyance as the vociferation disturbed his peace.

"The master was hard on him," commented his companion, tipping an old rusted helmet over his eyes. "The master hates elves, especially elves who put up fights. Like *him.*"

"I don't care if he was hard on him. I just wish he would shut up!"

"Adariel! Adariel! Le ueth im? Adariel!" The prisoner cried again, breaking off into a whimper. "Adariel…."

"I always get stuck with the worst jobs," sighed the Orc, sinking slowly to the ground, hands over his ears.

"Mother," cried the prisoner again, curled in much the same position on his cell floor. "Please, help me, please. It hurts."

Legolas had long since given up hope that anyone would find him in this place, but still he continued his pleas. It was the only thing that took his mind off the pain.

And sometimes, such as now, he would also remember a girl, a woman, with long dark hair and smiling eyes, and this would comfort him as well. She spoke to him in loving, lilting whispers of happiness and joy, and they warmed his heart.

He sighed as she grinned at him, opening her arms wide and calling to him, though he could never decipher the name she called him by. Bruised fingers reached and circled around the thin chain of gold he wore, which Gorthaur, for all his cruelty, had not taken. Warmth flowed through him, and laughter touched his mind again.

"Oh, how you suffer. I cannot bear it. No, 'tis too much." Said someone, but not the girl.

Legolas wrenched open his eyes and was confronted by a woman in long, golden robes. Her hair fell rippling to the floor, woven with ripened berries and crowned by a rich harvest wreath. She was crying, tears glimmering like crystal against her fair cheek.

"Who are you?" he whispered, enthralled.

"But you know me," she countered, kneeling at his side and pushing a stray lock of his hair into place. "I have always been with you."

"You have?"

"Yes. I am your mother."

He tried to comprehend, but could not think clearly. "Then please, please help me. I must get away before he returns."

"I would take you all the way to Valinor if such power was granted to me. But I cannot operate within the physical realm."

His heart fell, and she looked at him with such pity, with those tear-filled eyes. He must look revolting, he thought, Gorthaur must have terribly disfigured him for her to be so upset.

"I cannot take you from this place; and yet I have still helped you, though you may not know it, my son. I have told you that I would always be with you, and so I am. It was my will that held your spirit in tact. You will not flee broken to the Havens as Celebrian had."

"Celebrian? I do not understand…"

The woman smiled sadly and kissed him on the forehead. "You will, in time. For now, do not lose the necklace," she whispered, and then the whole chamber was filled with white light, emanating from her. Her appearance became soft and transparent, and wings sprouted from her back.

He blinked twice, and in her stead was another woman with long, silver hair. She, too, was crying, tears tracing down her stern face and into cupped hands. Strangely, though, she was dressed in the garb of his captors.

"Who are you?" he cried, attempting in vain to sit up. "What happened to the other woman?" He was utterly bewildered now; and also disappointed, for neither of the women had been the dark-haired one of his dreams.

She shook her head. "There was no other woman, young one. You must have been dreaming. Hush, and lay back down."

He studied her warily, but he need not have wasted the effort, for this was our own Isilya, who had disguised herself in order to enter. No one had stopped her; for all its ominous appearance, Dol Guldur's security was lax. Sauron in such a state as he was did not have time or care to discipline his Orcs.

It did not surprise Isilya that Legolas was hallucinating with such wounds. She was especially skilled at healing and the old magick; she held it within her power to heal him; but, she feared that Sauron might suspect. These were poisoned wounds that the boy had received, and even the elven ability to heal would not work as fast as overnight.

So she took her tears and spread them gently over his bruised and broken face, murmuring one of the healing spells, and restored to him his beauty, but nothing else.

"I cannot help you any more, Legolas. I am truly sorry."

His eyes widened and he nearly leapt at her. "What did you call me?" he cried.

"Quiet! You'll give me away!" snapped Isilya, forcing him back to the floor. "And you shouldn't move so fast with such wounds."

"But what did you call me?"

"I called you your name: I called you Legolas."

A serene smile spread over his face. "So that *is* my name," he sighed.

Realization dawned upon Isilya. "Do you not remember your name?"

"I do not remember anything, but a girl, a beautiful girl, with long dark hair. Do you know her?" he asked curiously now.

"I do know her; she is my Lady, Arwen. She is your lover."

"Ah," he said dreamily, happily.

"Do not worry about your memory, however, Legolas. That will return with time. You must have lost it when the Orcs assaulted you," murmured Isilya. "However, it is most important that you do not defy Gorthaur, understand? You must make him think he has broken you in order to make it out alive, with or without your memory."

"But-" Legolas cut off abruptly, frozen in fear as he heard the dark, musical voice again outside his cell door. Isilya froze as well, listening intently.

"He does nothing but make noise," whined one of the Orcs to his master.

"Excellent," Gorthaur answered, sounding pleased. "He is broken, then. I can utilize him to my own purposes. And do not complain about any of the duties I give to you."

A cry and a crash resounded in the dirt hallway, and the door began to open again of its own accord. Isilya pulled the rough, dark wool about herself and leapt with considerable agility to the ceiling, hauling herself up onto one of the supports as Legolas lay back down quickly.

"So, my beautiful one. Am I still a 'deranged coward who happened upon magick'?" grinned Gorthaur, still darkly handsome, of that decayed nature. He knelt and pulled Legolas roughly to him by the forelock, pressing his lips to the elf's.

Legolas wanted to cry out, but did not, remembering the warning Isilya had given him. Gorthaur's lips tasted like death.

"Well?" demanded Sauron, pulling him roughly away again.

"No," Legolas answered in a dry whisper, turning his face away.

"Good." Gorthaur looked into the hallway and commanded the other guard who stood there "Prepare a room. He is sufficiently obedient."

The guard nodded curtly and ran away, straightening his rusty helmet.

Gorthaur pulled a flask from his robes and put it to Legolas's mouth. "Drink," he ordered.

The liquid burned as it went down Legolas's throat, and he gagged. But as it spread through his system, a warmth filled him and his wounds began to heal miraculously, skin slowly knitting together.

"As long as you remain loyal to me, you will be treated as I am. The moment you defy me, you will be put back in this cell and made to suffer. Do you understand?"

Slowly, Legolas nodded.

"You don't want to be hurt again, do you?"

"No," answered Legolas quickly.

Gorthaur smiled cruelly and pulled Legolas to his feet. "From now on, we will be spending much more time together," he said, leading him out the door. 

Isilya dropped to the ground behind them. The situation had just become more dangerous than she originally thought, for Gorthaur had claimed Legolas as his own, just as he had claimed Celebrimbor. (2)

*****************

"'Tis too dark to see," sighed Arwen. "We will have to stop for the night."

Estel could hear the impatience in her tone. She was just as anxious to reach Legolas as he was.

"Perhaps we should make a fire for the night?" suggested Estel, scanning the plain. There was plenty here to burn.

Arwen nodded, and the two gathered wood silently, side by side. Night had fallen fully upon the plain at the foot of the misty mountains.

Finally, as Arwen labored to create a flame, Estel asked the question that had been on his mind the entire length of their journey.

"Are you not afraid of your grandmother's prophecy?"

Arwen silently blew on the tiny flame, fanning it into a fully burning fire. Her face was pristine in the flickering light.

"Of course I am," she answered after a while, sitting next to Estel and brushing off her hands. "Her warnings are not to take lightly."

"Then why do you go on?"

"Because," she answered slowly, "I will not give up Legolas without a fight. You will find, Estel, that you will come to a point in your life where you will have to make a decision. I committed myself to him, and I do not take my commitments lightly; so it is that my decision is to attempt to free Legolas until either he or I die trying."

Estel fell silent, staring into the dancing flames.

"Are you afraid, Prince?" she asked quietly.

"I am not afraid to die," he answered her defiantly. "I am not afraid."

But he was not entirely sure of this conviction, for he often wondered where it was that people go when they die, or even if they go anywhere. The dark abyss that was death frightened him, although really it was just another adventure.

Arwen looked at him with those knowing eyes, and Estel realized that she saw right through him. "I can assure you, Estel, that whoever it is that meets their doom in these coming days, it will not be you. You still have work to do in Middle Earth, important work, before you depart this life."

"But I don't want any of us to die!" cried Estel. "I don't know what I'd do if you or Legolas die. I love you both."

"But you must go on!" answered Arwen desperately, reaching out and gripping his biceps so hard that it hurt. "Promise me that whatever happens, you will go on, little one!"

"I-I promise!" he answered her. "I promise I will go on."

Apparently satisfied, Arwen dropped her hands to her side and lapsed into silence. No more of a word was spoken that night, and later Estel fell asleep in her lap as the coals of the fire lay dying.

*****************

flashback

*****************

"Please, beloved, please tell me why you suffer! I will do everything in my power to alleviate it!" Thranduil pleaded, kneeling at his wife's bedside, his hands clasped reverently over her own emaciated grip. The healers had given her only a few more hours, at most, to live: she was dying of a broken heart.

"I know you would, my husband, I do know; but you cannot help me," she answered him soothingly, reaching out to him with a trembling hand and twining it in his hair lovingly.

"How can you say so when I do not even know the cause of your pain?" he cried, his green eyes flashing through the tears. "Is it our wood? Is it our people? We can move! Why do you die of sorrow? Is it I? Then I would leave you, if only you would live."

She smiled gently. "Did I just not tell you, that I know you would do anything for me? But it is not within your power. It is the will of the high one that I should die now." She knew now the reason why those dreams had been visiting her, and what they meant. She knew why her forest was being flooded by darkness.

"Then truly there is no high one, if he would have you die," Thranduil said, dropping his head. "I will not be able to go on, if you die. If you die, a part of my soul shall die as well."

"Do not speak so! You must go on." 

When he did not reply, she called her son over to her. He was standing in the corner of the room, small and frightened in the hand of a nursemaid, not understanding what was happening except that it was bad.

"Mother?" he whispered to her, climbing up onto the bed by her pillow. "What's wrong mother?" His large, innocent emerald eyes looked to her for guidance, just as they always had. He had seen her less and less the last few months, and every time he saw her she looked more and more sick. He didn't understand what was happening to her, and knew only that she would be all right eventually, because she was his mother and nothing bad could happen to her.

"I am…leaving, Legolas. I am going away for a while," she told him, careful not to cry because she knew it would upset him.

"Oh. But will you come back?"

"No. No, I will not come back." She fumbled for her necklace, the gold one that had been wrought by some of the most talented elven-smiths on Middle Earth. "But I want you to have this," she told him, slipping it easily over his small head. "Keep this, and I will always be with you."

He nodded mutely, clutching it to him with a tiny fist, just as the last of the life left his mother. Her back arched and her body tensed, a silent cry escaping her lips, and then she fell back onto the bed, peaceful at last.

A golden light filled the room, perhaps her soul leaving the world. But then it concentrated, and in a swirl of sparks it went into the necklace, and the metal burned in Legolas's hand. He dropped it quickly, and whispered "Goodbye, mother."

His father only sat there, silent tears tracing down his face.

*****************

end flashback

*****************

It surprised Legolas, but he found the new chamber he was assigned actually quite nice, not at all like the cell. This room was exceptionally large, with its own bath and a great bed that took up most of the room. There was not even a lock upon his door. Apparently, when Sauron 'broke' someone, they were even too codependent to leave the room on their own.

His blood quickened for a moment as he planned an escape, but then he realized that he did not know where to go after he left the room in any case. He also reminded himself that he must make it look as if Gorthaur had defeated him, so he deferred and stripped himself of clothes, getting into the bath and drawing the curtains around it. The necklace, however, he kept on as he bathed, and the memories of the girl still haunted him.

Where was she now? Was she happy? Did she even miss him? If she missed him, then was she looking for him? He missed her dearly, although really he knew her not. He longed for her so much that it had become a physical pain over the past few hours as he endured Gorthaur's presence.

When finally he finished, he found his own clothes gone and replaced black robes, smooth to the touch.

"Your old travelling clothes were ruined, so I took the liberty of replacing them." 

Gorthaur was sitting in the corner, openly admiring the naked Legolas.

Anger seethed through him, but he quickly tamped it down and dressed as speedily as possible. "Thank you," he said, not mentioning that the real reason why his clothes were ruined was because of Gorthaur.

The same cruel smile crept onto Gorthaur's features. "But you should have kept them off longer," he said, striding toward Legolas and pinning him to the chamber wall. "My, you *are* a beautiful creature. Though Morgoth never understood it, I have always admired elven beauty. I find it- amusing."

Disgust and loathing at once filled Legolas. _I must not defy him. I must not fight back._ He told himself. _If only for her._

Gorthaur was pressing even closer now, his breath against Legolas's cheek, and Legolas could hardly bear it. The only thing that kept him from snapping was the image of her. _Yes, think of her…_

"The morning feast is prepared, master," interrupted a low, rasping voice from the doorway. It was one of Sauron's servants, hooded in black.

Gorthaur sighed. "Very well," he said, backing away. "Come along," he told Legolas.

Legolas followed reluctantly behind, reaching up to the necklace once more for comfort. The servant waited in the doorway for them to pass. But as they did, Legolas glanced quickly under the hood, and realization dawned upon him: that this was Isilya.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, grateful for her interruption. He had only to hold on a little longer.

*****************

(1) Elvish is so fun! I was playing with it for these few sentences, but they probably aren't right…Anyway, translated "Adar" means father, and "Adariel" is the female form of father, which is, of course, mother. 'Le ueth im' litearally translates "You not-out I", or "Why won't you let me out/ rescue me?" Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

(2) Most of you are probably familiar with the story of Celebrimbor, but for those of you who aren't, he was the elf who helped Sauron make the rings (not the one ring, though). He took them and handed them out in secret, and Sauron eventually took him and tortured him to death for the location of the rings. He never gave away the possessors of the three elven rings, however.

*Notes for the chapter*: Maybe you didn't make the connection, so just in case you didn't, Thranduil's wife was the dreamer from the last chapter. If you go back and read the section, it'll make more sense.

That's about it. Have a good time watching the movie this week (I know I will)!

And thank you for the reviews, again. You guys are so sweet. JastaElf, thanks for your reviews; I always enjoy reading them. And JediKnightBalthasar saidmy story was like a favorite book that got swept under the bed and rediscovered! That makes me happy. But I should update more, I guess…TTFN.


	7. A Hollow Victory

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me.

*This chapter is dedicated to the Astronauts of the Space Shuttle Columbia. May their spirits shine on as journeyers of the depths of space forever.*

***************** 

The morning light did not reach here, and that was simply it. The deeper that Arwen and Estel stumbled into the tangled darkness that was, or was formerly, Greenwood, the blacker it got.

It might have even been noontide sun out upon the plain that stretched from Lothlorien to Greenwood, Estel reflected. How long they had been travelling, he did not know.

He needed something to occupy his mind, else he would lose it. Over the past few days, Estel had come to recognize more and more clearly his limitations.

"Umm, Arwen," the boy ventured shyly, peering up at the tall, dark elf maiden ahead of him, and running his fingers along the trees they passed.

"Yes, Estel?" she answered after the silence had gone on too long, turning and giving him and encouraging smile before stooping before a fork in the road, tracing her fingers lightly upon the ground.

Estel turned and studied the path behind them for any approaching danger, as was custom between them now. For a moment he pictured that Legolas was running towards them, dressed the same way he had been when the two had spent happier days in Greenwood. _"Estel!"_ he would cry, _"Estel! What are you doing here? I've been searching for you for days…Gorthaur? What do you mean? No, he has not taken me captive…he doesn't even exist!"_

"Estel? Did you hear me? I said that we were close now," Arwen said, studying him with concern. "Maybe we should rest for a bit before we continue…"

"No! No, I am fine, really. I was just thinking."

"Of what?" she asked, standing and continuing down the left way, her eyes intent upon the trail.

"Well, nothing, really," Estel said, jogging a little to catch up with her long strides.

"Mmmm," Arwen hummed, glancing sideways at him for a split second with a look of disbelief.

"I was thinking of Legolas," admitted the boy. "I was going to ask you…why. Why do you love him so much that you are willing to sacrifice your life for him?"

"Why is the sky blue? Why do fish thrive in the sea? I cannot answer that question," Arwen smiled, ruffling the prince's hair playfully. "Love is a very elusive sprite. Sometimes it is hard to explain exactly why you are attracted to a person, or why you are in love. Or why you love a person so much that you are willing to perish for them. One day, you will understand."

Estel's tiny mouth formed a frown as he tried to process what the elf had said, and a silence stretched between them.

"We have known each other since we were very little, so there was the trust and understanding needed for a relationship," Arwen continued as she fondled a few broken twigs that were found upon a tree. "But I did not truly feel my heart move until the day we met upon the lake. There he was, grown, the moonlight brilliant against his hair, and so beautiful…so free, he was. Lovely and free as the summer's wind that ruffles the oak leaves in Rivendell. So unlike any of the elves in Rivendell. I wanted…I want…to always protect that free spirit of his, to protect his kind nature. And…if…anything should happen to him…"

__

"You have gotten better, Estel…" Legolas's voice echoed in his mind, and he was smiling again at Estel, the sword that they had always used to spar with flashing in his hand.

"Yes…he was always kind. Legolas…" Estel whispered. A drop of water brushed against his face, and that was when he realized that the lady was crying, her head bent in grief. Estel reached up and held her hand. "But he was always strong, too. I'm sure he'll be fine. I know it. There is no way that an elf such as he could be harmed. We both love him too much for that…"

Arwen smiled at Estel through her tears. "Thank you, little one. You are right," and gratefully, she bent to kiss the top of his head, as a mother or a sister would. "Do you love him too?"

"Yes…"

Her smile broadened, and her tears stopped. "The trees tell me Dol Guldur is right ahead. You can turn back now…"

Estel shook his head firmly. "No. I will go on." For although he had come to recognize his weaknesses, he had also come to recognize his strengths, and he knew that they would see him through.

Hand in hand, the elf and the boy continued onward to whatever fate would have in store for them, and the wheels of destiny moved one turn closer toward the future.

*****************

"All of my own shall be shared with you, my elven servant," Gorthaur, who sat beside Legolas, whispered into his ear, playing with the other's blond hair. "Such power; such wealth; all that you name, it will be given to you, now that you have joined me, and no longer defy me."

Legolas nodded numbly, and for a moment this offer tempted him. After all, why should he not take it? Those whom he had left behind, banished from his memory, they had not even come to save him. Isilya had told him to hold on; but _why_, why should he contend with the will of the sorcerer, when all that he was offering Legolas was so good?

Gorthaur must have been following the elf's thoughts, for he smiled. "Yes, think of it…all this could be yours…." And he waved out over the room.

They were in a large, echoing hall, seemingly impossible in size for the materials of the fortress. The walls were of the familiar packed dirt, crude and unadorned, aside from the food and blood smeared there from the various Orc skirmishes. Long, stone- hewn tables lined the floor in the shape of a horseshoe, and he himself was upon a dais in the middle, along with Sauron and a few others, not Orcs. There were plenty enough of them swarming the tables; and as Legolas gazed out upon them, his heart left him, for he was certain there was no means of escape with their numbers. And the offer tempted him even more, and his mind was thrown into turmoil…

Again, as ever, he reached to the necklace for comfort; but he was in such a state now that it soothed him not.

He thought of the woman, his mother, and of the conversation that he had had with her.

__

"I would take you all the way to Valinor if such power was granted to me….you will not flee broken to the Havens as Celebrian had…"

"What?!" Sauron's voice, sharp with anger, replaced the warm tone of his mother. 

While Legolas had not been paying attention, one of the servants of Sauron had approached the dais and was conversing secretly with his master.

"Bring them here, immediately!" Sauron commanded, eyes bright with deadly fury. The servant bowed and left, scurrying out of the rounded carved entranceway before the dais.

All of the attention in the hall was now upon Legolas and Gorthaur, as the spell- bound creatures of Sauron cowered in front of his will, which rose like a breaking wave in the silence.

"It seems, my young one, that an envoy was sent here to save you," Sauron growled in disgust. "But do not worry; we shall dispose of them immediately." And laughing, he made a cutting gesture across his throat.

Then it seemed as if a thought occurred to Gorthaur, and he turned his bright eyes upon Legolas. "To prove your loyalty, my servant, why do not you be the one to do it?"

The laughter of Sauron sent chills down Legolas's spine, as it always had. Kill his friends? who had come to save him?

"No," he whispered, quick and barely audible; but Sauron caught the one word, and he cried out in rage.

"No? No!"

His eyes were now bearing upon Legolas, and his voice no longer musical. It seemed to the lone elf that Sauron grew larger and blacker within the room, as a storm cloud might, and his borrowed form was shrouded in a fog of dusk.

Legolas knew than why it would be impossible for him to take Sauron's favors as well, as he gazed upon him. Because Sauron was evil, and all that he had created and all that he had come upon would be evil, too. Legolas was not. Their natures were profoundly different; even if he knew nothing about himself he knew that.

And then the sorcerer began to speak in a tongue that Legolas had never heard before, grating and unpleasant, and Legolas clutched at his ears in an effort to block it from himself; but it was to no avail…and darkness descended upon him. He reflected sadly, just before the last of his consciousness left him, that he would not be able to look upon those who had risked all to come and save him, and wished he could have been stronger, for them….

But the world was cruel and spiteful, and such wishes are nary often granted. So it was that Legolas succumbed to Sauron's will just as an elf woman, beautiful even in desperation, and a child were escorted to the dais. 

Their hands were bound, and their eyes desperate as they beheld the wrath of Sauron and the number of his minions.

"How dare thee try and contend with the will of Gorthaur!" the dark one roared at them.

The child, our Estel, shrank before the sorcerer, but Arwen noticed him not. She saw only the one by his side, Legolas, whose eyes were blank and who was clothed all in black…and at that moment her despair overcame her, and she wept, for she could tell that her lover knew her not. She had come too late…and all was lost, and her grandmother's prophecy was to come true. They had been so close…

__

She and Estel had found a secret entranceway into the fortified hill, a tunnel that led to the River. Both had been full of confidence; for it had been an easy entrance.

They found Isilya waiting for them by the end of the tunnel, and as she beheld them she smiled "I knew that you would come. But we must act now; for Sauron has claimed the elf prince as his own, and soon he shall make a true slave of him."

So into the pits of the sorcerer she led them; but none of them had noticed the lone Orc that was watching them.

And soon after the march of the Orcs could be heard echoing down the hallway, and they knew then that they were discovered.

"Go, my lady: I will fight them off," whispered Isilya, revealing from her cloak a sword wrapped in cloth.

"No," she had answered, "you must not let yourself be discovered, for we may yet need your disguise."

And she pulled Isilya close and embraced her; and then Isilya bound both she and Estel and presented them to the Orcs, though it was clear the elf woman was full of doubt and remorse.

"Look," said the elder elven woman, "I have captured the spies…"

Arwen stared desperately at Legolas, as the weight of their fate finally bore down upon her shoulders. Gorthaur noticed Arwen's glance, and he smiled, a parody of a smile full with evil and malice. For he knew then that she loved Legolas, and he knew also the best way to dispose of the elf woman.

"Legolas; my servant, hear my command; kill these traitors."

Legolas was now fully under Gorthaur's spell, and no conscious thought was left in him to contest the dark one's orders. In a flash, the elf had leapt over the table, his dark robes swirling about him as Gorthaur laughed.

"See now how fruitless your efforts have been, you of the elf kind? You have attempted to challenge my power by withholding my sword, and now you shall pay for it, with the young blood of these three captives."

Legolas landed lithely upon his feet in front of Arwen and took from her side the elf- sword she carried, in one slow and measured movement. As the horrible laughter of Gorthaur filled the chamber, he brought the tip of the blade to her throat, and his face was blank and devoid of emotion as one of those walking in dream.

Estel struggled against his bonds and cursed, thrashing about violently in an effort to save the girl, but it seemed to no avail. She was going to be slain, and by the one whom they both loved…it seemed too cruel to be true.

Arwen wept harder as she beheld the countenance of he whom she loved so dearly, Legolas; close enough to touch, and yet, as far away from her as he had ever been. She pleaded with him to awaken, but he heard her not, still beneath the spell of Sauron. The tip of the sword was biting into her skin, and she could do nothing but weep.

But just as everything seemed hopeless, the she- elf caught the glimmer of a necklace around Legolas's neck, shimmering like a chain of stars against the black of his robes, the necklace that was the symbol of their love.

"Even in the darkest of night there is still light," she whispered, and began to sing, and elven song of old praising Elbereth, the Lady of Light.

Arwen's song filled the room, strong and bright and shining, fighting back the black presence of Gorthaur. As she did so, the necklace began to resonate in response, and it took on a light of its own, flashing blindingly and engulfing Legolas in radiance.

And as Estel looked on in amazement, Legolas was freed from the spell, and he came back to himself.

With a gasp, the elf dropped his sword, and it clattered noisily to the ground. He stood eerily still for a moment, as if frozen, and then he bounded forward and freed Arwen and Estel from the bonds that held them.

All this was happening as Arwen continued her song, and Gorthaur, finding his plans interrupted, began to howl in rage.

But Legolas and Arwen ignored him, and in joy they held each other close, reveling in the power of light and love. They broke from the embrace only as they realized that the Orcs were now descending upon them.

Estel was already fighting, moving with an almost elven speed as he took down one enemy after another. He had defended the two elves from harm for a while now, and not in vain. Although he knew it not, he held within him at that very moment the will befit of the kings of old, and it too was a threatening light in the darkness.

Arwen bent and retrieved her fallen sword in order to join him; but Legolas stayed her hand and begged her to continue to sing.

Legolas, moving almost without thought, as if another was guiding his hand again, drew the necklace over his head; and clutching it in a fist high in the air, he joined her song.

As the voices of the two elves wove and blended together, the necklace began to generate a light and wind in the darkness. The hand of Legolas, held into the air, was like to a torch. The light enveloped them, and the wind drew the skirts of Arwen out behind her as if to form the wings of a bird, and teased both of their hair out to a halo about their head.

Still they continued to sing, eyes closed in reverence, faces clear.

Estel, still in a flurry of motion, could catch only glimpses of the two elves, and wonder at their majesty. It seemed to him that any Orc attempting to come near them was disintegrated, and that the will of Sauron, although he was in a wrath upon the dais, could not contend with their light.

The many Orcs were now descending upon the three like a tide of the ocean, and although they could hold them off for now, their strength was wavering and the defense could not last long.

Sauron saw this and laughed, reveling in triumph despite the nuisance they had caused him.

Estel stumbled in his slay of the Orcs, as more and more of them came to attack him. Panting, he retreated to the side of his companions, where they, too, were wavering in their efforts. The song was ending, and the light failing as the last of their magic was spent.

Orcs surrounded them, and Sauron's dark laugh hovered above all of the noise in the room.

But just as all seemed hopeless, just as the song of the elves had ended, then from the necklace, from its light, or maybe even of the necklace itself, a woman came.

She was the same woman who had visited the jail cell of Legolas; she was his mother.

And this time, she was even more magnificent; she was a woman made of light, in need of no clothing. And she grew in the room, grew to the size of Sauron, and in a final motion she waved her hand over the masses.

Orcs were thrown everywhere; some, those closest, even just exploded as her will cast them aside. Blood and light filled the chamber and the woman laughed as Sauron cowered.

But her energy was expended in the slaying of the thousands of Orcs, and her light began to fade away.

"Mandos calls to me. Finally, I am free," she said, and she rose through the ceiling of the chamber and across the sea. She left in her wake a massacre, for all of the thousands of Orcs that had once been there were now dead.

As Gorthaur gazed out upon the ruin of his servants, Arwen, Legolas, and Estel fled, having no strength or will left to challenge the Sorcerer.

Through the pits of fire that he worked his magick in they fled, through dark, winding tunnels and finally out of the river entrance, away from Dol Guldur.

"Thank the Valar," breathed Arwen as the three collapsed in a clearing in front of the mound of fire.

All were breathless and speechless as they wondered over the magick that had been worked only minutes before to save them.

But their peace was only momentary; for Sauron had come after them, and was determined to have his prey despite the ruin of his Orcs.

He stood in front of the mound of fire and his spirit, black as night, rose to towering heights above them. "Did you believe you could escape me?" he roared, angrier than ever before.

He brought one long, dark, huge hand down upon them, like a storm cloud that has fallen from the sky. And the three could do nothing but watch as their doom came upon them, for they had expended all of their energy within his chamber; no defense was left to them.

Then, as if from nowhere, Isilya appeared, her long dark cloak flashing wildly around her and her silver hair freed and glowing in the light. Within her grip she held a sword of obsidian, and she raised it against Sauron's hand and caught the blow that would have fallen upon them.

Her eyes shining, she held her sword against him, sharp metal against dark smoke.

Gorthaur had now found his plans thwarted for the third time that day, and his wrath was terrible to behold. His spirit burst into flame, dancing madly about the sky, his laugh deepening and darkening.

"Go!" cried Isilya, her sword still in the air; the sword of Sauron. "Flee; I will hold him off!"

"No! Isilya!" Arwen screamed. "Don't do this!"

But Legolas had taken Arwen into his grip and was tugging her away from the clearing, as Estel darted ahead of them. Isilya was their only chance, he knew.

The elf woman of ages old turned back to the spirit; but she did not cower before it, despite its wrath. Instead, she listened again to the speech of the trees, urging her on, and she tapped in to the will of the forest. She could see all at once; she could see Thranduil's kingdom miles away, the birds building their nests, the rabbit drinking from a stream, the deer flying from its predator. She could see Arwen's despair and feel the weariness of the three behind her. And finally, she beheld the wrath of Gorthaur before her.

"You shall die, elf woman!" he declared, voice deep as the thunder of the night.

"I do not fear you," she answered him slowly.

Then quick as a flash, she leapt into the air, the sword poised before her. Sauron had no time to react before he found the instrument buried in his chest, dark blood like smoke seeping from the wound as the fire still burned.

Sauron, in fury, smote down the elf woman; but the wound she had given him was too much, and he had no choice but to retreat into his home. His spirit shrank, the fire extinguished, and in his elven form he staggered backwards, into Dol Guldur.

Isilya had died upon impact with the ground, charred with the fires of Sauron. As Arwen looked on in horror, her spirit fled the world, and the brave elf woman lay dead.

__

So this is death? Wondered Isilya as her soul journeyed from her body, becoming one with the earth._ Strange it is, this gift of the race of men._

"No!" she sobbed, as Legolas pulled her away, back in the direction of the elven kingdom. She struggled against his grip, trying in vain to reach again her former nursemaid. "No, no, no, no, no!" 

"Arwen; we must keep moving, else Sauron attack us again!" Legolas hissed, numb with shock but continuing to pull forward.

Arwen gave in and staggered behind him, her face wet with tears, her clothing torn and stained with the blood of Orcs, and her shoes soggy from their escape through the river. Though they had escaped, though they had won, it was most certainly a hollow victory.

*****************

A/N: Well, this has turned out to be a rather dark chapter, hasn't it? But don't worry, friends, it's not over yet. Though I haven't much time nowadays, I will try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible. Thank you for your patience, and feedback would be appreciated!


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